


the distance between our fingers

by awkwardedgeworth



Series: Aria [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU where victor and yuuri split apart one year after the GPF, Angst, Getting Back Together, M/M, Otabek-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:51:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardedgeworth/pseuds/awkwardedgeworth
Summary: If Otabek were a bystander, he would see Victor being a ruthless coach, raising his voice at Yuri's less than stellar free leg, It's a normal occurrence, the older retired skater pointing out areas Yuri can work on.
But Otabek is not a bystander, and he sees the glint of a golden ring from Victor's right hand, slipped around his ring finger like a reminder.
A reminder that Victor, estranged with nowhere else to go, was picked up by Yuri and Yakov to go back to Russia so he can have a semblance of a life back.
A life without Yuuri.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> everyone's aged up two years and a little bit so in april, yura is 18, otabek's 20, yuuri is 25 and victor's 29  
> lets pretend yuri has enough experience to drive. and that the olympics occur in the timeline i wrote it in. 
> 
> Not beta'd

When Otabek crawls into Yuri's car ("It's not mine, I borrowed it from Victor.") after hauling his luggage in the trunk and snapping the seat belt on, he watches as the younger one merge onto the freeway before cutting the radio off with a growl.

Otabek doesn't need to understand Russian to know what the host was talking about. The entire figure skating world was buzzing about it. Heck, it didn't matter if one were interested in figure skating or not to know of the news. The entire ride to the rink the Russian skaters call home was smothered in heavy silence and Yuri's knuckles turning white from the way he's holding the wheel tightly.

"So how is he?" 

Yuri snorts, swiveling his head back as he maneuvers the car in a parking stall. For a second, Otabek wants to correct the wheel, but Yuri avoids scratching the paint off Victor's car, throwing it into park and applying the emergency break, "What do you think?"

"Not good."

Yuri leads him to the rink entrance as he shields his eyes from the sun. Otabek follows, swinging one strap of his backpack onto his shoulder, "Oh you know," he starts with an air of nonchalance, "he alphabetized all the books and CDs he owned, then rearranged his closet in order of brand name before switching it in order of preference. After that he decided that transcribing the official ISU emails into English, French, Italian, shitty Chinese, even shittier Indonesian, Spanish, and some questionable German was the best thing to do. THEN the old sock has the fucking nerve to play through his 200 song titles on Spotify while watching through his old programs, and then he dragged me to Ikea to look at paint swatches and stayed in the grey section for TOO LONG and now-" Yuri jerks a thumb behind him where Victor Nikiforov is sitting on the cold bleachers of the rink, hunched over a piece of paper, "-he's vibrating from four shots of espresso and talking to himself about my choreography."

Otabek doesn't miss the way the entire rink is draped with the presidential flag of Russia, the double-headed eagle beaming proudly, "...So he's not taking this break up thing well."

"What do you think, Beka?" Yuri grouses, running a hand through his (now long) fair hair, "Him and Katsudon were supposed to get married." Of all things to be seen, Otabek sees Yuri's face twist into something akin to remorse.

"Why did they break up? I thought..." He recalls reading the group chat with all the skaters in the Senior Division, "I thought they were good."

"Katsudon self-destructed and Victor thought it would be best for him to leave. The idiots are both at fault," Yuri bitterly explains as he walks towards the nearest barrier door and takes his runners off, opting to pull his skates out of the duffel bag nearby. Otabek copies him, "As far as I know from Yakov, he was a mess when he landed, and he's gone home completely drunk these past few days with Georgi and Mila."

"And Yakov?"

"He's retiring soon, so technically Victor is my coach now," Yuri points to the other ice rink past the double doors on the other end of the room they're in, "He's in there with the other skaters."

Makkachin comes bounding down from the bleachers, and Yuri stops tying his laces to stick his hand out. Otabek, per usual, does the same and gives the poodle the same courtesy. He's given a few happy licks before the dog paws Yuri's knees and turns to where Victor is sitting, whining. This whole ordeal is repeated twice, and each time Otabek's heart breaks a little for the dog and his master.

"Sorry girl," Yuri digs his hands into Makkachin's curls, "I wish your master would be okay, too."

Victor seems to have superhuman hearing, because he snaps his head up before making a beeline to them. When he's closer, Otabek sees that he's grown out his hair a little, the longest strands coming down to brush his neck. His eyes are definitely bloodshot but he doesn't hide the sadness that decorates the edges of his strained smile.

Yuri mumbles a word about hitting the ice, leaving them alone.

Otabek awkwardly extends his hand, hoping that they're not too cold. Sure they posed for photos when he won bronze two years ago, but it doesn't help being polite, "Hello, Mr. Nikiforov."

The five time World Champion and former king of mens' figure skating laughs, Makkachin wagging her tail as she walks around them. When he returns Otabek's handshake, it's firm. He expected it to be frail but of course he was wrong; Victor Nikiforov isn't frail, "Just call me Victor, you're the same age as Mila after all," Then he jerks his head at Yuri gliding on the ice, "and you're his boyfriend."

"Thank you for agreeing to choreograph a program for me," With the Olympics coming next year, most of the seniors have decided to skip the Grand Prix and polish a winning routine that would land them on the podium, Otabek and Yuri being one of the many. He thinks he has a good chance of doing so since it's still early into spring.

"No, no, it's my pleasure. I like doing these," Victor sounds decidedly chipper, the twenty-nine year old bouncing a little, "We'll talk about what your theme is during dinner. Yura's been craving Japanese lately, and a new place just opened up downtown."

Without waiting to see Otabek's reply (not that he has any aversions to it, Otabek has nothing planned anyway), Victor sheds his puffy coat and takes off his guards, clapping to get Yuri's attention, his sharp voice cutting into the rink like the custom made gold blades his feet are gliding on, his legacy on ice.

And if Otabek were a bystander, he would see Victor Nikiforov being a ruthless coach, raising his voice at Yuri's less than stellar free leg, eyebrows pulled in concentration before he takes it upon himself to tie his bangs back with a hair tie and demonstrates the move himself. Yuri snaps at him and Victor comments something smart, earning a flush of anger from Yuri's cheeks. It's what always happened before Victor even left Russia. It's normal.

But Otabek is not a bystander, and he sees the glint of a golden ring from Victor's right hand, slipped around his ring finger like a reminder as he continues to punctuate his explanation with his hand gestures.

A reminder that Victor, estranged with nowhere else to go, was picked up by Yuri and Yakov to go back to Russia so he can have a semblance of a life back.

A life without Yuuri Katsuki.  


* * *

  
It's easy to forget that Victor isn't on a business trip to his motherland sometimes.

"I'll personally bring Lilia out of retirement if you don't fix your leg, Yura!"

Yuri, in the middle of a complex step sequence (his one weakness, really), breaks out of character and roars a string of insults in Russian. Victor takes it like a champ and laughs, turning the music from the beginning and ordering him to start over again. Otabek tries to hide how hard he's panting as he takes his break, reaching for his water bottle.  
  
"YURA! YOUR FREE LEG!"

"I'M TRYING OLD MAN!"

At the low dig, Victor grumbles under his breath about jotting down a reminder to _for sure bring Lilia out of retirement_ even if he has to beg her. There's a fire in his eyes that is threatening to smother everything in its path and Otabek knows that if he doesn't fix his edges and posture in the next half hour he's going to be at the receiving end of the Nikiforov wrath.

The group chat is still buzzing here and there. Otabek saw Victor deleting the messenger app on his second day, eyes a dull blue as he scans Phichit's message to everyone that he's going to take a year off and "maybe travel around", which is really just code for him taking a year off to be at Yuuri's side.

Victor's Instagram account is still up, and he sees the man check it regularly, pressing the heart button on Chris's photos when he visited Vancouver. Otabek, for the life of him, doesn't understand how Instagram works, or really, the point of having a social media account. This fact is taken very badly by Yuri, who hounds him to get an Instagram, Twitter, and Chatsnap. Or maybe it was Snapchat. Otabek doesn't know.

The bomb drops after a grueling practice where Yuri spent more time falling and tripping than actually skating. He drags Otabek to a frozen yogurt shop when they're supposed to be at the gym, scrolling through his phone.

"Oh, Yuuri's in Bali."

"With Phichit?"

Yuri makes a noncommittal grunt, a yes in Yuri-speak, using his thumb and pointer finger to zoom, "Feh, he looks terrible. He's always been hopeless with concealer."

"Are you going to eat your yogurt?"

"You can have some of it," Yuri absently says, opening his messages to reply to someone called Yuuko. "How should I tell Victor not the check his Instagram for the next two weeks? Phichit likes to post a lot of selfies."

"Just straight up tell him, sneaking around wastes time and energy."

Yuri nods, reaching for his cup before peering in and gasping, "You took all of my chocolate pretzels! And mochi balls!"

"You said I can have some of it." 

"I didn't mean the snacks, Beka!"

Expecting a lecture the next day when he and Yuri enter the rink for playing hooky, he's surprised to find the ice deserted.

"Victor? Makkachin?" Yuri calls out, beginning to frown when they don't hear the tell tale clicks of nails on the metal bleachers or a responding woof, "Oi, Makkachin!"

"I'll check Yakov's office," He says, walking back the way they came in and taking a left until he sees a hidden hallway shrouded in darkness. He quietly approaches a door with the Russian flag tacked onto it, automatically slowing his steps when he hears hitched breathing and hiccuping.

Otabek halts in the middle of the hallway and waits until he can hear Yuri's soft footsteps join him, the eighteen year old stopping when he sees a figure shrouded in darkness.

The light from his phone is the only thing lighting up Victor's dim silhouette. From where they're standing, they can see a picture of Yuuri and Phichit in front of Ulun Danu Temple, both of them dressed in batik- at least, that was the original picture Yuri had shown him when they were eating breakfast. Victor's phone shows a close up of Yuuri's face, and the man himself draws a shuddering breath before turning around to see his audience.

"Yuuri-" Victor chokes out, and the next thing Otabek knows, Yuri has stepped forward to hug his friend.

"It's okay, Victor, shh, it's okay."

Victor warbles something unintelligible in Russian, moving back on his chair to dig his face into Yuuri's sweater as he shakily draws him into a hug. Otabek's ears filled with Yuri gently crooning, patting Victor's hair as he awkwardly steps into the office and picks up Victor's discarded coat from the floor, patting the dust away.

Yakov stumbles in ten minutes later, two coffees in his hand before he sees the situation. He pries Victor off Yuri, and sends both of them back to the rink to warm up. The last thing he sees before the office door is closed is Yakov wiping Victor's tears with a tissue.

Both Yuri and Otabek don't make a comment when Victor comes on the ice thirty minutes later, sunglasses perched on his face for the remainder of the week.

Sometimes it's so easy to think that Victor is on a business trip, but sometimes it's not.  
 

* * *

   
"I didn't realize Moscow have heat waves," Otabek groans when Yuri rolls down the passenger's window to snark at him to get his ass in the car. While they live in the same dormitory (Yuri has long moved out of Lilia's apartment after Barcelona) with the other Russian skaters, he makes Otabek lug both their bags while he goes to the car park and brings it to the front every morning. 

"Haven't you heard of our subtropical Sochi?" Yuri yawns as he systematically make their way to the rink speedily, zooming along before the morning rush hour can set in, "Am I ever glad we're ice skaters."

Victor's already on the ice when they walk in, having a chat with Mila as he stands, arms crossed.

"Good morning my lovely love birds!"

"I'm gonna kill him," Yuri calmly states as Mila splutters on her coffee. Otabek hides a smile by biting the inside of his cheeks, "I'm actually going to kill him one of these days."

"Hi Otabek," Mila greets him, fluttering her purple gloved fingers, "Victor told me you guys can use a hand or two for today."

"Don't the reigning World Champion in women's figure skating have anything better to do?" Yuri snarks, but Mila doesn't do anything but laugh when the comment has no bite behind it. Otabek can relate- even if Victor is charming on and off the ice, he embodies Yakov's spartan coaching style. 

Victor snaps his fingers in their direction, "Less chit chat, more warming up." Yuri grouches for a few more seconds before unrolling a cushy mat on the floor, bending forward until his forehead hits his knees. Otabek sorely wishes he can do the same.

"Yuri, Otabek," Victor calls out, skating towards the sides before turning his body at the very last second into a stop, "I'm cancelling practice tomorrow- they want measurements for your Olympic jerseys."

Otabek turns to see Yuri grunt, but his eyes are sparkling, clearly excited. Otabek's excited too, so he unrolls his mat and throws himself into warming up with a gusto.  
 

* * *

  
They throw a good luck party to all the competing athletes two nights before they leave for Pyeongjang. Naturally, the press is invited to take a few pictures while several news stations set up a small interview. Otabek is the only one wearing his blue and yellow Kazakhstan jersey within the blue, red and white fabrics of Russia.

"Don't be nervous, they'll like you," A voice says behind him, ten minutes before they're due to sit on the table with their name plaques facing the many cameras. Victor zips up his jacket and spreads his arms out, smiling, "It's been a while since I wore one of these. Do I look good?" 

"You spent an hour on your hair, Victor," Mila drolly says, rolling her eyes as Georgi snickers, "Of course you look good." To Otabek, she asks, "Do you want a drink? You look pale."

"I'm fine, thank you," Yeah maybe he is feeling pretty nervous about a national press conference where he'll have to say a few words in Russian, which he deeply hopes he doesn't butcher. Yuri helped him prepare some answers, but his mind is blanking out right now, and Mila is shoving a glass of water into his hand with a worried expression, her words falling on deaf ears.

His hearing comes back when Yuri appears, blond hair tied into a ponytail, as he takes his hand and squeezes, "Oi Mila, they're starting to seat everyone. Ladies first."

Mila runs off, red hair bouncing. Georgi bids his goodbye and makes way back to the party upstairs, and Victor turns around to give them some privacy.

"You'll do fine," Yuri reassures him, "Your accent is nearly gone."

Otabek only shoots him a panicked look, showing a rare moment of weakness as he squeezes the life out of Yuri's right hand. If Yuri's bothered by his circulation being cut, he doesn't show it.

A bald man manning the conference stage calls them to go up, and Victor's light voice floats to them to get moving.

"Victor," Yuri calls, waving his left hand, "Your ring."

His coach looks at his right hand, easily removing the golden band in one smooth motion, pocketing it in a pocket and then zipping up that pocket, "Hah, right, of course. Let's go now you two, I have to sit on the end."

Half an hour later, Otabek doesn't butcher his questions in the conference and manages to sound like an athlete well versed in a third language. Victor makes a toast to him when they all go back to the party, and Otabek feels his ears go red, very pleased with himself. 

* * *

  
He and Yuri respectively place first and second in men's figure skating. Otabek is called a hero when the gold is confirmed to be his, and Yuri runs up and tackles him in the kiss and cry, Victor joining in and hugging both of them.

Otabek thinks Victor should keep that grin on his face at all times, hoping that he'll find someone new to love in the future as Victor proudly puffs up is chest as he gloats to the reporters about his students. Beneath his leather gloves is the ring, but Otabek figures it's there because he's used to it. The press doesn't mention Yuuri Katsuki, and instead fuels Victor's eagerness with questions regarding his programs that led to a gold and silver. Otabek and Yuri stands back as Victor basks in the limelight for a few minutes, both sharing a look before Mila (gold medalist in women's figure skating) tackles Victor and drags all four of them close together for a picture.

The return to the ice rink where Makkachin runs around their feet feels grounding, and Otabek finally relinquishes his phone to Yuri and allows him to set up an Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat and god knows what else. He gains a thousand followers in the first five minutes and shuts his phone off.

"Come gather children!" Victor sings, hand on hip, "Let's talk about your themes for this year's Grand Prix."

"You mean you're not giving us a break?" Yuri squawks indignantly.

"Oh but I am," He points to how they're not on the ice, and are instead, sitting on the bleachers, "We're not skating are we?"

Yuri doesn't get a chance to reply, because at that exact moment, the door to the ice rink slams open. Victor's eyebrows pull down and he turns, sucking in a breath to see who exactly is disturbing their rink time at six in the morning. Yuri, as always, is ready to raise his voice, but he turns pale in the face, and Otabek takes this as a cue to turn his head around to see what has made them so speechless.

"Hi!" Phichit Chulanot waves, dragging a suitcase beside him and trailing in some snow from the massive blizzard that caught Moscow unguarded. Otabek spots a poor taxi driver trailing behind him, wheezing as he drags two large suitcases with him before stopping behind Phichit so he can brush off the snow that has gathered, "Good job on the podium, you two! Knew you'd make it!" He looks around with a smile, "Wow, you guys like your national flag, huh?"

Victor's voice is oddly strangled, "You're in Russia?"

"Well, I flew from Thailand two days ago and I was wondering if you would let me make this rink my home from now on. Can you choreograph me a program, Victor? I already have an apartment ready to be rented near the rink and everything."

When Victor doesn't reply and Phichit's smiles begins to fade, Otabek gets a sinking feeling he knows exactly who the taxi driver is.

It's Yuri who breaks the silence.

"Katsudon," He quietly says, "What are you doing here?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i read the comments and i'm back with popular demand  
> (holy shit thank you for the amount of support???? i just wanted to vent about my feels into a oneshot)
> 
> pineapple cakes from taipei are god send oml phichit knows what's up  
> speaking about phichit, i've lost count how many times i wrote phishit instead of phichit  
> also i made the base rink in moscow bc it's closer to the airport
> 
> not beta'd

They take over the rink kitchen, kicking out a shell shocked Yakov about to eat his breakfast, Phichit shaking his hand with gusto before he leaves with his oatmeal.

"—so I'll call you later today about the arrangements if Victor approves me as his student, okay? It's good to see you again after a year! Oh Yuuri!—" Phichit beams to the object of Yakov's ogling, "Bring out the pineapple cakes from Taoyuan airport would you? They're in the lighter suitcase! Oh you wouldn't believe what happened when we were planning to fly here! There's no direct flights from Thailand to Sheremetyevo! Isn't that something? So I figured that our best bet was to fly to Taipei and get our own connecting flight..."

"Both suitcases are heavy," Otabek hears Yuuri grumble, lifting both of them a little as Yuri goes to the sink for paper towels, scattering them over the wet trails the newcomers brought. Otabek also moves to do something, hand robotically cleaning the table so Yuuri can start stacking Phichit's pineapple cakes on the gaudy yellow tablecloth. As he swipes the crumbs into the palm of his hand, he can't help but sneak a look at Victor.

His coach has gone straight from shock to composed anger, not bothering to keep a smile carved on his face like his usual response to whenever Yuri disobeyed his orders. Victor clenches his jaws, blue eyes chipped with coldness as he stands near the door of the kitchens, boring a hole onto one of the many suitcases Yuuri had lugged in.

Otabek turns to Yuuri, who meets his eyes, casting down his eyes like he knows he's caught red handed.

"Here, Otabek~"

He barely has time to react when Phichit shoves a pineapple cake into his mouth, the twenty-one year old beaming and quickly snapping a selfie as he turns blue. Yuri slaps him on the back, dislodging the treat. Otabek wants to go back to bed.

Phichit collapses into the seat Yakov used to occupy, unraveling his scarf and unzipping his winter coat to hang on the back of the chair. Otabek wonders how he can still be smiling when the temperature of the room has dropped colder than the blizzard outside, "Don't worry about the picture, I won't post it immediately since I'm pretty sure people are still under the assumption that I'm in Thailand."

"Do you want some coffee?" Victor dully asks, moving to the coffee machine and taking out five cups from the cabinet, "I'll make a pot."

"Ooh! Yes please!"

"You're going to get a headache later," Yuri reminds him.

"I already have one," Is Victor's snappish reply.

Otabek wonders if he should eat another pineapple cake and feign choking so Yuri can pretend to call an ambulance. That will at least give them a way to escape the situation at hand.

"C-Congratulations on your gold, Otabek," Yuuri tries to break the silence with a strained smile, still by the suitcases, holding a stack of boxes. Yuri perks up when he walks over to the both of them, handing them each a bag of something green, "You too, Yurio."

"Are these green tea Kit-Kats?" 

"I remembered you liked them—"

"I love them," Yuri unabashedly states, "Thanks."

"Thank you," Otabek echoes, looking back at Victor waiting for the coffee to finish. His face looks pinched, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as Phichit continues to ramble about their journey and the disguises they had to wear to avoid paparazzis. 

Otabek eats a few more pineapple cakes, assuring Yuuri that there's enough to go around for the rest of the Russian team even if they demolish one box (Victor is too busy glaring at the kitchen tiles to lecture him for breaking his diet). He ends up sitting next to Phichit, Yuri next to him as Yuuri sits across them. A beat later, Victor deals out the coffee, black liquid overflowing the sides as he slams each mug down. Otabek mops his spill quietly and Victor ends up shoving a cup with milk and coffee to Yuuri before leaving the room.

While the three stare after Victor's retreating figure, Yuuri looks at his latte, a wry smile playing on his downcast expression.

"So," Yuri starts, opening the bag of Kit-Kats, and popping one in his mouth. Otabek is quickly calculating the amount of extra gym time they need to put in for the extra snacks they're consuming as he chokes down his black coffee, "Spit it out, why the hell are you here? It's like a bad omen really, it wasn't supposed to snow this hard in March."

"Well, I was being honest," Phichit sips his coffee, grimacing before standing up and opening every drawer in search for sugar, "I took a year off and I want to come back, it's no secret that Victor's one of the best if not _the absolute best_ choreographer around."

"And you, Katsudon? Aren't you retired?"

"Phichit asked me to help him with choreography...like what Minako-sensei did."

Yuri obviously fits the pieces together and stands to his feet, slamming his hands down, "... _Are you fucking serious?_ "

"Yuri," Otabek warns, "Sit down." He can see Mila and a few other younger skaters look towards their way from the window on the door. Victor is waving his arms around to Yakov, face twisted into a scowl.

"Yurio, I have no intention of getting back with him," Yuuri firmly but quietly states, wrapping his fingers around the cup. Otabek notes that there's no gold ring on his hand, "I'm doing this for Phichit because he sacrificed a year to make sure I was okay. I wouldn't be here if I was half-hearted about this."

* * *

 ISU Figure Skating @ISU_Figure Apr 1st  
Congratulations to Otabek Altin for taking home the gold after his brilliant performance in Pyeongjang! Watch his performance here! (link) 

ISU Figure Skating @ISU_Figure Apr 1st  
Gold: Otabek Altin, Silver: Yuri Plisetsky, Bronze: Seung-gil Lee

ISU Figure Skating @ISU_Figure Mar 31st  
Congratulations for defending your second World, Mila! Watch her performance here! (link)

ISU Figure Skating @ISU_Figure Mar 31st  
Gold: Mila Babicheva, Silver: Sara Crispino, Bronze: Jenny Li

* * *

"Cheer up, Victor!" Mila tries her best to pry off the baijiu bottle Phichit had gifted Victor when they shook hands on the previous agreement. They've all collapsed from the flight back from the World Championships, and Victor invited them over for take out (and by extension, alcohol). His luggage still needs to be unpacked, and it lies blocking the door of his bedroom, "Have you tried the pineapple cakes they gave us? They're really good!"

Georgi sips his apple juice as he scouts for damage control on the internet, scrolling through the most bizarre news websites to see if anyone heard or saw anything about Victor agreeing to take Phichit under him. With Georgi being the designated driver, Otabek allows himself a cup of vodka mixed with something else, keeping Yuri from face-planting into his pasta.

"My god he smells more like ethanol than baijiu, this is some strong stuff," Mila gags as she plunks the bottle away from Victor's long arms while keeping the man from collapsing backwards. Otabek didn't really foresee that he would see his coach in a shitfaced situation, but by the way Mila and Georgi aren't reacting much, this must be a common occurrence back in the days.

"Dan't eee toooo much," Victor slurs in English, presumably because he still recognizes that Otabek's present, "Or I'll make yew run. Run and run."

"I only ate one!" Yuri exclaims from underneath Otabek's chin, and he snorts. 

Victor throws his head back, laughing, before the tears come and Georgi groans from his couch, shuffling to the bathroom to get the tissues. Otabek pointedly looks away to give his coach some privacy as he starts hiccuping.

Georgi entrusts him with Yuri and Victor as he drives Mila home, promising to come back so he can stay with Victor afterwards. Otabek would have to take the bus with Yuri, but it's fine because it's not too late yet and Yuri doesn't smell that much like alcohol anyway.

Yuri is lightly snoozing on the rug, Makkachin curled up next to him to keep him warm as Victor clings onto Otabek's left arm, pressing his tear stained face onto his jersey. Otabek has a bucket ready on his other side if worse comes to worse.

"Otabek," Victor mumbles, opening a bleary eye. Otabek tears his eyes away from the late night comedy show on TV, "Can you get me water?"

"Of course," He gently pries off his coach's fingers off his arm and goes toward the kitchen for a glass, returning and helping Victor drink before easing him back on the cushions, "Anything else?"

"No, my head's getting clearer but a headache is settling in," Victor rubs his face with his right hand, ring glimmering, "I thought I was over him.... Pain dulls after a while, you know?"

Otabek doesn't do anything but takes the afghan on the end of the couch and makes a Victor burrito.

Victor manages a sleepy grin, "Nighty night. No practice tomorrow, good job on your gold in Worlds the other day," He wriggles around before his breathing evens out, dead to the world. 

Yuri stirs when Georgi comes back, rubbing sleep away from the corner of his eyes as Otabek passes the message that they won't have any practice tomorrow morning. They bade goodbye, shivering as the cold air robs grogginess from their bones, boots sinking into the leftover slush.

The press amazingly don't find out until Phichit officially starts practice. Yakov and Victor take the morning off to talk to the media, Phichit immediately begins uploading the many pictures of Moscow he has taken over the week. Otabek's phone buzzes with no intention of stopping, realizing that Phichit had tagged him in every single picture even if it didn't have his face in it.

"Good morning Yurio, Otabek! Wow," Phichit yawns, "It's kinda early in the season for you to skate, isn't it?"

"Don't call me Yurio! And there's no breaks if you're under the old sock."

"How come you let Yuuri call you Yurio then?"

" _Because he can!_ "

"We worked through Christmas last year," Otabek supplies very helpfully, poking fun at Phichit. That fact was true, but it was also two months before the Olympics and Victor must have chewed off at least half of his perfectly manicured nails when Otabek had a week of terrible practice. It was worth it in the end, even if Yuri was a little sulky practice that it had taken the better half of last year's Christmas.

"NO CHRISTMAS?" Phichit shrieks.

"Where's Katsudon?" Yuri looks around, picking up the tennis ball Makkachin has dropped by his feet before chucking it towards the other end of the rink. He goes about to gather his hair into a ponytail, trying to flatten his baby hairs, "I thought he's attached to your hip at all times, Selfie Boy."

"Ooh are we giving each other nicknames?" Phichit fawns, clapping his hands in delight as Yuri shrinks a little. Otabek wraps an arm around him and takes over exercising Makkachin as the two chat, exchanging Yuri's list of terrible nicknames for JJ for Phichit's hamster pictures (which are admittedly, very adorable).

"You're more mature this time around, Yurio, what happened?"

"I was a little shit back then, figured I would grow up a little."

"Aw, you've grown so nicely! And so tall too!" With this, Yuri preens smugly, standing up straighter. Phichit looks at Otabek before shooting them a wide grin, "So, you two, hm?"

"Wipe that smile off your face," Yuri scowls, huffing and crossing his arms. Otabek sees his ears turn pink and decides to pull him closer, shooting a small smile at Phichit as Yuri smugly tells him of how well they've been doing together under Victor's training, and to watch out for his spartan ways— "Gek!" 

Otabek bends down and throws the tennis ball again as Makkachin streaks away. Yuri coughs and resumes his story, choking on his words when Otabek lightly pushes his fingers into his side.

"Is Yurio ticklish?" Phichit laughs.

"NO!" Yuri roars at him, before Otabek flutters his fingers and Yuri lets out a yelp, jumping up and twisting. He doesn't leave the circle of Otabek's arms and falls to his wiggling fingers, "HAH! NO STOP IT BEKA! S-STOP!" A laugh slips out of Otabek as Yuri tries to retaliate, failing miserably and holding up his two hands in surrender. "I GIVE! I GIVE!"

"Oh," A soft voice says, laughing. All three of them turn to see Yuuri enter, snow saturating his hair as he takes off his fogged up glasses, "I didn't know you were ticklish Yurio."

" _I said I'm not ticklish!_ "

"I got it all on video!" Phichit laughs, running off as Yuri gives chase. Makkachin thinks it's a game and barks. Otabek and Yuuri both pull out their phones and refresh Instagram to see Phichit's video, a six second clip of one unmistakable Otabek and Yuri laughing together before it's cut off with Phichit entering the shot and shooting a peace sign. There's already six thousand views and nearly the same amount of likes in the first minute, and Otabek is in awe of the fearsome power Phichit has. 

* * *

 The Possible Start of a New Romance?  
Published on April 31st, written by Vera Ivanova

With the confirmation of Thailand's Phichit Chulanot (23) returning to the ice after taking one year off to travel, he made the announcement of moving his rink base to Russia. His new coach, the decorated Victor Nikiforov (31), adds another student to alongside Yuri Plisetsky (19) and Otabek Altin (21). However, with the arrival of Chulanot, Yuuri Katsuki (27), two time Grand Prix Finalist, has confirmed that he will be working together with Mr. Nikiforov to train Chulanot. Mr. Nikiforov has kept silent on questions regarding Mr. Katsuki, and all are watching on how they will work around their split up one year after the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona, where Katsuki took home silver.

* * *

"Victor, can I talk to you?" Otabek intercepts him on the way to the bathrooms as all the skaters take their lunch break and sit on the bleachers. It's Yuri's turn to take Makkachin out for her doggy time and Phichit is being hauled off the ice by Yuuri, "Alone?"

Victor blinks, before pointing to his shared office and grinning, "Is this a love confession, Otabek? You must know that my heart is solely dedicated to Makkachin!"

"It's about my program," Otabek states. Victor closes the door and takes a seat in his chair, looking up at him with a slight frown.

"I haven't even started choreographing it. I was going to ask the two of you what themes you wanted in a week's time."

"About that..." Otabek mumbles, the words dying in his throat before he coughs to get the tickle out, "Please don't take offense but...I was thinking that this would be either my last or second to last season on the ice."

Silence.

"Oh," Victor's face is that polite smooth mask he slips into when he doesn't really know what to think, a rare occurrence, "I understand, do you want to go out with a bang?"

"Yes."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I'm not sure, but I want the free program to be about my send off to everyone, if I choose it to be. Can you craft it so that it focuses on nostalgia?"

Victor unlocks his phone and begins to type, "Got it, I'll start looking for the music," Given the dismissal, Otabek reaches for the door knob but is stopped, "Have you told Yura yet?"

"I haven't."

Victor blinks at him again, "Don't make him wait."

"Okay." 

  

With the reality of his retirement actually becoming a tangible thing, Otabek begrudgingly allows Yuri to help him more and more with his limberness, letting him talk about his time with Lilia, laughing at Otabek's blanched expression. Even if they don't start until May since Victor is whipping Phichit into shape from his year off, they still brush up on their techniques on the ice.

"Or is that what you want me to think?" Otabek squirts some water into his mouth, wiping the droplets away as Yuuri leans on the barrier to show Phichit his arabesque form on his phone, replaying the video. Victor is taking his break far, far away from them, molding Makkachin's fur into weird shapes as his panini grows cold, "You're here to buffer them, aren't you?"

"What, no!" Yuri exclaims, poking him in the chest. Otabek narrows his eyes and Yuri looks away guiltily, "Okay fine it's sort of like that, but we do need to practice! Or at least stay in shape!" Yuri points to the newest additions in their little family, "Katsudon and Selfie Boy are them, and Victor and I are the other them. You're the buffer."

"What?" Otabek hasn't been this confused since Yuri asked him for help in calculus last year.

"Like, I think they're both idiots, and I'm pretty sure Phichit thinks they're both stupid too, but we have to stick up for our respective friends. And since you weren't close to either of them in the beginning, you're the perfect buffer!"

Otabek quirks his mouth up into a smile, "You're so strange."

Yuri scowls, but bends down a little when Otabek tip toes on his toe picks to kiss his cheek.

 

"Can you guys be anymore awkward?" Yuri deadpans, "You're both adults."

Otabek makes eye contact with Phichit, standing on the other side of Yuri as they both share a wry smile. Yuuri and Victor are standing stiff as a board in front of them, trying to act nonchalant but not actually succeeding. It's as if an invisible hand is forcing two repelling magnets to stand side by side.

"Katsuki," Otabek starts, watching Victor's face carefully, for he'd asked him yesterday to give him his approval and Victor had told him to do whatever his heart wishes but still, you never know with Victor, "Can you also help me with my choreography?" Yuri shoots him a look of wonder, "Compared to Chulanot and Yuri, I'm woefully behind because I quit ballet."

Yuuri looks delighted, "Of course, Otabek! I don't have access to a barre room, but I'll bunk with Phichit and move the bed out of the second bedroom—"

"Klara."

Yuuri turns to Victor, glasses drooping down, "Huh?"

Victor looks at Yuuri's ear, tone flat and distant, "Mila's cousin is a former skater. She coaches the pairs and ice dancers, she has connections with the studios around."

Yuuri turns to look back at Otabek, "Oh, but wouldn't it be easier if Otabek trains under her?"

It's Yuri's turn to butt in, "Klara has her hands full with training four teams without help. She's doing the choreography and music by herself. Yakov and Victor obviously can't help because they specialize in individual skaters." Then he slaps Otabek's back, grinning as he slumps forward and wheezes, "Don't worry Katsudon, I've been helping him with stretches! He's not terrible!"

Yuuri takes out his phone and types in the number Yuri gives him, nodding distractedly. Victor shakes off the cold from his fingers by clapping his gloved hands together and shedding his jacket, "Right, I'll show Phichit's program first, both the short and free, and then Yura's and Otabek's. Let's go!"

Otabek tugs Yuuri to the sides, Yuri going to the portable stereo in a move practiced so many times it feels like second nature.

Then, Victor dances.

* * *

 Budding Talent in Moscow's Coaching Team  
Published on May 5th, written by Vera Ivanova

Alongside former ice dancer and seven time World Champion Klara Babicheva (37) and five time World Champion Victor Nikiforov (31), the senior figure skating team has begun preparing for the upcoming season under the direction of head coach Yakov Feltsman (73). Many critics were hesitant about the inexperience and age of the two new coaches, but they have solidified their worth with Babicheva's three ice dancers (Orlova/Belkin, Adamova/Ferodov and Levitskaya/Lukin) sweeping the podium in Pyeongjang and Nikiforov's Altin and Plisetsky claiming gold and silver in men's figure skating. Altin and Plisetsky also won gold and silver at Worlds along with Babicheva, who won her second gold. 

With the arrival of Katsuki and Chulanot in April, Altin has released a statement that he will be working with Katsuki alongside Nikiforov. The gold medalist expresses his confidence in Katsuki's experience, as he was trained under Minako Okukawa, recipient of Benois de la Dance, the greatest award in ballet. Rumours of his retirement at the peak of his career seems to be hushed by how aggressive he is attacking this season. 

* * *

"You know, you should have listened to me when I said we should leave," Yuri stops reading the news article on his phone and peeks over the wall before flinching back, groaning. Otabek pulls out his phone and angles it far enough so he can see the commotion outside the doors of the rink. It seemed that every broadcast station and gossip magazine has camped outside, waiting to ambush them to leave. 

"You needed to work with Katsuki on your edges."

"Why did I do this to myself?" Yuri moans, running a hand through his hair. "I should text Mila to see if she can pick the lock and feed the cat..."

"Let's sleep in the lounge upstairs," Otabek steers him away from the entrance, crouching as they go up the staircase so the reporters don't start a ruckus, "We can sleep on the couches."

"Oh yeah that's a good idea!" Yuri drops their bags on the ends of the couch and sinks into it.

Otabek lets himself be pulled into the circle of Yuri's arms, both of them thumbing through Yuri's social media and catching up with the rest of the world. It was a good thing that he packed their dinner and hastily shoved a few protein bars the day before in case they needed a boost of energy from training. His limbs ache all over even though Yuuri was very apologetic, and he dozes off without meaning to.

When a thump wakes him up, he quietly lifts Yuri's arm away from him and grabs his phone from the floor, taking off his shoes and tip toeing down to where the main entrance leads off into a series of hallways that separates into the many rinks and offices. The reporters are still camped outside, though half have left since it's past ten now. Maybe he should call security since the intruder's shadow is sneaking towards the offices.

Yuri would probably start lecturing him if he found out that he picked a fight alone, but Otabek is an athlete at the peak of his condition (or he hopes anyway, his quads are still stiff) and the intruder is probably a reporter snooping around. He can take them on.

He straightens in surprise.

It's Yuuri.

And...Victor?

Stealthily tip toeing forward since there's nothing to hide himself behind, he moves far enough to stick his head to peer closer into the shared office, and sees Victor passed out on the reclining chair, sock covered foot up on the table. Otabek looks at ice in Rink One and sure enough, there's deep scratches on the ice and Victor's skates are by his chair, laces pooling on the ground. 

Yuuri's fixes Victor's jacket over his body, tucking it around his shoulders, hands full of concern.

Otabek leaves the scene for a few seconds and runs to the second rink, the one where Yakov usually takes. Rink Two has scratches, but not as deep as the ones in One. Yuuri must have been practicing there beforehand, leaving the rink to find return the keys on the office hooks when he found Victor knocked out.

Walking back slowly to the front because he seriously needs to call security now and have them go home without being swarmed, he sees Yuuri enter the lobby area, lost in thought.

"Katsuki."

Yuuri leaps a foot in the air and squeaks, clutching his chest, "Oh my god, Otabek you scared me! Wait. Why are you here? It's late."

Otabek gestures to the scene behind him and Yuuri sighs at the reporters, "Of course. Is Yurio upstairs then?"

"Yes, he's fallen asleep in the lounge."

Yuuri pulls out his cellphone and thumbs through his contacts, "You should have called security, it's already late and both of you start early tomorrow." He presses the phone to his ear before handing it to Otabek, "On second thought," He gives a sheepish grin, "Your Russian's probably better than mine."

Otabek explains the situation, and returns the phone to Yuuri, "They'll be here in fifteen."

"Great, great, I just want to shower and eat dinner. Phichit made a durian cake, you should come over with Yurio and try it. It's a little pungent however, not everyone likes it."

"Katsuki?"

"Yes?" Yuuri smiles.

"I...want to skate my gala with Yura." He feels a creep of red over his cheeks and is glad for the semi-darkness of the lobby. He thought it was bad when he told Victor and the man teased him to no ends the other day, cooing at his 'favourite love birds', but he feels like he should melt away when Yuuri softly gasps, "If...If you can, can you help?"

"Have you told Victor?"

"Yesterday."

"Of course," Yuuri beams, cheeks bunching up together as he grins. "This is so great! Yurio doesn't know, does he?"

"It's a surprise," Otabek croaks in relief at how easy it was to get Yuuri on board.

"Okay, we'll plan something out when it's Yurio's turn to walk Makkachin." Yuuri begins to express his happiness and the different music choices he can't wait for Otabek to hear, but Otabek must interrupt him.

"I'm sorry."

"...For what?"

"You have to work with him more," The duo, so famously loved by the world in how they choreographed a fitting duet at Yuuri's gala exhibition in Barcelona, seems to disagree on a lot of things. If they want a good score on the technical points, Victor has to put quads and triples into the program, but too many will take away from the music and feeling. Yuri had personally threatened each of them to suck it up and work together, but where Phichit laughs about Yuuri's stubborn streak and Victor's (for lack of a better word) selfishness, Otabek feels like a child to two divorced parents, being tugged this way and that way. 

Yuuri's smile tapers off, "I'm sorry you all have to see us fight so much. The instructions must have been confusing." Otabek makes a shrugging motion.

"...Why...exactly?"

"...We got into an argument," Yuuri starts softly, "and then we were both truly angry with each other— which happens— but this time we were too stubborn to apologize and things became rocky after that. We started blaming each other for this and that, and Victor was trying his hardest to be patient and understanding with me but in the moment I just wanted him to stop fixing things, because there's some things in life you can't fix, right?" He laughs bleakly, "He took a bag and Makkachin with him before leaving. I thought it'd be best to let him cool off because I'd be angry too, but when I was about to pick up my phone, Phichit sent me the news and he was already on the plane to Russia. It's entirely my fault why he's here today.... But he's successful here."

"I don't think he cares about success," Otabek slowly says, meeting Yuuri's gaze, "In the beginning, he only cried and cried and cried. He made us beautiful programs but it was a while until he really got into coaching. Even now, you can tell in the more lyrical choreographs that he yearns for something." He's not sure if he should be butting into their relationship like this, but more than one year later, it was obvious that Victor never really gotten over Yuuri.

Yuuri shakes his head, "I understand what you're trying to say, but I'm the cause of the current Victor. He's got this far without me, and I'm proud. I'm not going to try to steal him back from the world if he enjoys making programs for the both of you." Otabek watches Yuuri pull a chain from underneath his turtleneck, where a gold ring hangs. Yuuri rolls it in his hand, "I wasn't even supposed to come here, but Phichit asked."

"...So there's no chance of you getting back together?"

Yuuri smiles, "I didn't realize you were invested in us."

"I just want you and Victor to be happy."

"I've seen the headlines and the links, Otabek, I'm not going to cause anymore trouble for him." Yuuri says softly, "It won't matter anyway. I'm going to leave once the season wraps up, and then we will go our separate ways."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case anyone is curious over who i model klara and her partner in the good ol' ice dancing days, it's Virtue and Moir from Canada! Some notable programs if you're interested to check them out is their original dance in the 2010 winter olympics, and their SP and FS in the GPF 2016 :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a kind someone named Kat pointed out that Beka would be pretty fluent in Russian because Kazakhstan is a country that speak both Russian and Kazakh there. in regards to the first and second chapter: i'm sorry. in regards to future chapters: i will fix it. thank you for pointing it out :')
> 
> not beta'd

Otabek looks out from the window, hand clutching the brown bag of painkillers as he sits sideways on the backseat of Victor's car. The leather is warm, cooked in the duration it took Victor to carry him into the hospital (he saw a lot of phones out—  the press is going to have a field day) and back out.

"I'm sorry," He grounds out in frustration as they pull out of the hospital's parking lot and onto the road.

Victor's smile is a bit wane, stress lines lining the edges of his eyes, "I'm glad it was only a small stumble and not something worse. Are you feeling okay? Should I drop you off at the dorms instead?" He tries to give Otabek his full attention, but Otabek's life nearly flashes in front of his eyes as Victor accidentally cuts a van when he merges, "Whoops."

"I'm fine, just drive safely."

Victor nods, and allows Otabek to stew in his own thoughts. He was demonstrating a quad flip to Phichit, squeezing all the necessary rotations before slamming down on the ice with his foot not in the right position, and then pain. The doctors said it was a grade two sprain, which is great because it should only take four to six weeks to heal. If he plays his cards carefully, he should be prepared in time for the Grand Prix, but he can't help but feel anxious anyway.

Yuri's going to lecture his ear off when he first returns, he can feel it. 

Victor helps him out of the car, lending a shoulder as Otabek holds the car frame and gets the crutches underneath his armpits, moving very slowly as his coach walks ahead.

"So about the gala, Klara has been bouncing off a few ideas with Yuuri and I," Victor launches into an explanation, waiting for Otabek as he struggles to keep up. Why does Victor have such long legs? They both enter the building and Otabek internally groans at how much more he has to limp. "Of course we'll talk it over with Yura, but since this could possibly be your last season, and you want to go out with a bang—"

" _Last season?_ " A stricken voice echoes.

Yuri is standing near the door, holding Otabek's finger-less gloves presumably so his hands won't be too sore. His eyes are wide. Wide and full of anger as he looks between Victor's guilty expression and Otabek's emotionless one, "What do you mean _last season_?"

"Yura—"

"Victor!" Yuri hisses at him, straightening his back and looking his coach, long time friend, and former teammate in the eye, " _Is this true? Otabek's thinking of retiring?_ "

"...Look, you should listen to him." 

"Yura!" Otabek calls out as Yuri darts into Rink One. Victor, mindful of his ankle, decides that the fastest way for Otabek to move is to be carried like a potato sack. He is no means a light person, and Victor grunts a little as they barrel through the swinging doors. Yuri welcomes them by throwing his skates into his duffel bag, pulling on his team Russia jersey and gritting his teeth. A bewildered Yuuri rushes to get his guards on, Phichit calling out in concern.

"Yuri, what's wrong?"

"Don't ask me, Phichit! Ask them!" Yuri spits, shoving his foot in his sneakers and swatting Yuuri's hand as he reaches out to him. Otabek wriggles free of Victor's hold and stumbles to his one working foot.

"Yuri!"

Yuri tugs up his hood and runs out the back doors, the sun illuminating the blond strands that escaped his ponytail before the door shuts.

 

His coaches decides that the best course of action is to end practice earlier and drive him home, where Victor takes over phoning an assortment of people once Otabek unlocks his door. 

Yuuri and Phichit take over his kitchen, and are so scandalized by the emptiness that Phichit takes Otabek's wallet (not that he can complain— he can't walk) and announces his departure to the grocery store. Otabek feels mildly betrayed when he's left at the mercy of his ex-engaged coaches who make him sit across them as they talk about the gala program. Wow. He thought having dinner with Lilia and Yakov was bad, but all Yuuri and Victor do is passive-aggressively bicker while looking down on their own set of notes.

"I think we should go for a lyrical song," Yuuri starts.

"Lyrics take away from the performance."

"Not if you choose a good one."

"What were you thinking of then?"

"I don't have a title yet," Yuuri admits, "But why don't we plan two step sequences-"

"Why two?"

"Because Yurio improved on them!"

"I think they can try two side by side jumps. Klara and Nikita did them as pairs before they switched to ice dancing."

"Excessive jumping takes away from the performance."

"If we keep them to basic things they're not going to exhibit their skills," Victor testily replies.

Yuuri's cheeks turns splotchy, "I want the best program for them."

"I do too," Victor stubbornly says.

"Um," Otabek interrupts, looking up from his wall of text to Yuri, "I was actually thinking of a fun piece. Something with a costume maybe. Yura's been making me listen to Prince. And Bruno Mars." 

Yuuri and Victor stare hollowly at him as Phichit opens the door, four bags of groceries in his hands as he stands there awkwardly, "...Am I interrupting something?"

"No!" They both exclaim in unison. Phichit shrugs and starts whistling an overly cheery tune, walking to the kitchen. Otabek wants to help him organize the groceries, but his crutches are on the floor and he's the sure the duo will order him to sit back down anyway.

His phone thankfully buzzes then, and Otabek's heart leaps to his mouth before he pulls it to himself to see a text from JJ.

Leroy: -image-

Leroy: Isn't this your dude??

A very distinct and familiar leopard print bomber clad figure rushes past airport security. Otabek furiously types, _Do you know where he's going?_  

Leroy: No sorry I'm running to catch a connecting flight to Incheon.

Leroy: Wait.

Leroy: How come _you're_ asking me? Don't _you_ know where he's going??

Otabek types, _We had a little fight,_  and prays that JJ's already boarding the plane so he can't have access to Twitter. He tries to call Yuri for the seventeenth time and ends it when the automated voice tells him that voicemail is full.

Leroy: Oh wow. So from one fight he decides to leave the country? He's rubbing off Victor, eh?

Leroy: Hold on, I'll try asking the attendants to see if I can get an answer.

Otabek types a shaky thank you and sweats for a minute before his phone buzzes again. Otabek takes a second look when Sasha, Yuri's cat, pads out of his bedroom, wandering away. At least Yuri trusted him enough to take care of his cat while he was away.

Leroy: 'Kay I had to flirt a little.

Leroy: The lady at the counter said that he's going to Helsinki.

" _Helsinki?_ " Otabek croaks.

His coaches stop fighting, chiming in unison, "What?"

"Yura's on his way to Helsinki," His head is calculating how fast he can pack to catch the next flight leaving Sheremetyevo, "JJ saw him in the airport."

Victor whips his phone out, "I'm booking the next flight."

"No, this is my fault, I'll go—"

"You can't _walk_ Otabek."

" _I'll_ go," Yuuri states firmly, causing all heads to turn towards him. Victor, of course, opens his mouth to object but gets cut off, "Victor, you can't go, what will the skating federation say if you left Phichit and Otabek? You coach for the national team." Yuuri swivels his head around to Otabek, "And you have to drive him to physiotherapy and back since he can't take the bus."

Otabek keeps quiet as Victor slowly lowers his phone, meeting Yuuri's eyes for the first time in days. They both have an intense stare off, Yuuri not backing down one bit when Victor's eyes narrows.  

Eventually, Victor sighs and looks down, "I'll leave you to it then."

Yuuri nods, dragging Phichit out of the kitchen as he says a stream of instructions to Otabek, adding, "And I'll send you the list of exercises I want you to do while I bring Yurio back. No excessive stretches on the ankle, okay?" 

As Victor calls the airport to reserve a ticket for Yuuri, Otabek checks his Instagram and presses the rightmost icon, reading over the bio Yuri had written for him when they're in the cab in Pyeongjang, still riding the high of winning gold and silver. _Otabek Altin, Olympian and World medalist, three time gold medalist at Four Continents, YP_ _._ He was first appalled at the initials tacked on the end but Yuri was so red that Otabek gave in and asked for his initials to be on Yuri's account as well. 

He sees that Yuri has deleted his initials from his bio. Otabek stares at the screen until it dims and shuts off. There's a numbness that's starting to creep into him, it makes him all the more aware of the pounding of his heart. He screwed up. He _really_ screwed up.

Victor shows Yuri's account from his own phone, shaking it with his eyebrow arched amusingly, "Did you see this?"

Otabek fails to keep his tongue in check.

"Should you be saying that when you and Katsuki can't negotiate on a program?" He grinds out.

"Hey! Your boyfriend is in Finland and _you're_ lecturing me?"

Otabek glares as Victor tries to derail the topic, "You two fought the entire time until Katsuki left. Can't you two set your differences aside and talk? You even managed a civil conversation with JJ when he visited last year!"

Victor is quiet.

"I'm sorry."

"May I ask why you're retiring?" Victor asks out of nowhere, "Twenty-one is still young. I'd say you have four or five years— six if you don't sustain any major injuries."

Otabek stills.

"Otabek?"

"I..." He starts, looking up at Victor then back down, "I'm feeling conflicted," He says slowly, "We are performers are we not?"

"We are," Victor echoes quietly.

"As performers we need to love what we do unequivocally, we throw our entire soul into our art and commit ourselves to the end of every season. We build and build and build all to reach our peak, we spend more time training to thrive, to try and grasp the eluded podium, yet that doesn't last long at all. We fall."

Victor doesn't speak, eyes cryptic as he scans Otabek, "Continue."

"I don't like doing things halfheartedly, it doesn't seem right, and I'm betraying the people who have supported me this far," He thinks of his parents, trying not to remember the way their smile slightly droops off when he told them he's pursuing skating instead of accepting one of the admission letters to a university. "I know my time on the ice is limited, but I would rather choose how I end it rather than let it pick me apart."

"...I can relate."

He hasn't even told Yuri of this, it's still all very confusing and it's like trying to pull water from a river when all he has is a broken net and not a container to hold it in. 

Victor wets his lips, opening his mouth before his phone shrills. Otabek sees Yakov's name flash across the screen. Victor sighs from his nose and mumbles to excuse himself, going to the kitchen. Yakov's screaming can be heard all the way into the living room; he's livid.

When Victor walks back in, he's sober, "Yakov wants to call a meeting, which means code for he wants to feed my intestines to the seagulls, so I have to leave." He picks up his puffy coat from the love-seat, pausing and turning to look at him. His left eye is covered by his bangs, and he lowers his voice and drawls, "...I thought I told you to not keep Yura waiting, what, a month ago? It's already June."

Otabek stays quiet because he knows he's at fault, staring at the rug beneath his feet and digging his foot into the plushness. Sasha wanders out of the bathroom and slinks up to him, chirping and rubbing herself around his foot.

"We will talk at a later time then. I'm going to leave now— no need to get up," He waves Otabek back down, "Do you need anything else before I leave?"

Otabek shakes his head, "I'll be fine."

Victor leaves then, answering another call as he steps into his loafers. He gives Otabek a flutter of his fingers before closing the door. The apartment is quiet once again.

Otabek checks his google alert for any updates on Yuri, deciding that he can at least put the food Phichit bought into the pantry when nothing new comes up. This takes a while, and he sets his twitter to give him a notification when Yuri makes a tweet. 

After awkwardly showering and wrestling himself into basketball shorts and a t-shirt, he hobbles off to make dinner, where he makes two portions out of habit. An annoying voice in the back of his head that sounds like JJ torments him further, _god damn it Otabek you fucked up bad!_

He gets a phone call from Phichit the moment he sinks back onto the couch, tapping the green icon and raising it to his ear, "Hello?" He can hear a second pair of feet moving in the background and Yuuri speaking in Japanese. There's crackling in his ears and Phichit mumbles a quiet ow.

"Hi Otabek, am I bothering you?"

"No."

"Okay, how's your ankle?"

"It's fine, it stopped hurting. Is something wrong?"

"Um, well, whatever you do— and please don't look it up after I end the phone call— don't go on twitter for the foreseeable future until I say it's okay, okay?"

Otabek says okay, and hangs up.

He taps the app and searches his name.

Oh.

Yuri Plisetsky @y-plisetsky 2m  
just landed, it's vacation time! #Helsinki  
-image-

Otabek scrolls further down, ignoring the comments tagging his account wondering where he was. Some wish Yuri to have fun, some wondering if they've broken up or if Otabek's visiting Almaty. 

He refreshes the tag again and sees a new post, a shaky video taken by a fan at the airport. Otabek unmutes his phone and taps it.

The timid fan calls out Yuri's name and asks for a photograph, who complies as he makes a joke about how Aeroflot didn't delay his flight. They chat for a few seconds as Yuri draws a little cat on the corner, complete with whiskers before handing the notebook back, thanking her (rather awkwardly— he still has trouble being comfortable to fans) for her support.

"Where's Otabek?" The fan asks.

At this, Yuri turns from an amicable tourist to a petty boyfriend, scowling, "Otabek? He's dead to me."

And the video ends.

Otabek spams Yuri's phone with texts as Sasha kneads his foot, mewing quietly. Using his skills, Otabek takes a feather poking out of one of his cushions and pinches it between his toes, keeping her busy as he continues to type. He knows Yuri is on his phone because he's retweeting cat videos and uploading pictures with #Helsinki on Instagram.

A thought strikes him.

_You're extremely mad at me but at least tell me where you put Sasha's cat food_ , Otabek sends as a last resort.

Yuri immediately replies with a string of middle finger emojis. Otabek waits patiently.

Yura: behind the canned soups.

Otabek wants to say more, but decides he shouldn't push his luck. Sasha gets fed, Otabek cleans the dishes and goes to bed, slipping in and adjusting his crutches on his bedside table. Whenever Yuri decides to crash in his room and hogs his blankets, they never really cuddle with each other, but the empty space makes Otabek miss him all the more. He just has to wait this out.

Otabek eventually drifts off to sleep, hugging the pillow that smells most like Yuri. 

* * *

Yuri itches to take a photo of the cool... _art_ in front of him. He's not actually sure what is, other than that it takes up an entire room and it's _super cool_. Mind-blowingly cool. Definitely something Victor would _totally_ post even though it ruins his aesthetics. 

His Instagram _should_ be filled with dozens of pictures, but he doesn't pull his phone out out of respect for the museum. _Why didn't he come here when Helsinki hosted Worlds a couple of years ago?_ Junior-Grand-Prix-Finalist him missed out.

Another reason to not take his phone out aside from courtesy is the fact that Yakov, Victor and Klara have been calling his phone non stop ever since the rink opened in Moscow time, demanding to speak to him and filling up his voicemail. Yuri has a mind to block Victor and Yakov, but refrains from doing so because the amount of trouble he's already in is larger than the old sock's fivehead and angering them more might just top the cake.

"Yurio, there you are!"

Completely taken by surprise, Yuri turns to see Yuuri holding his shoulder, cheeks flushed, dressed in knee-length olive shorts with a striped tee. "Katsudon?!"

Yuuri smooshes him into a hug, boisterously laughing and being loud as museum patrons stare at them, "Good to see you too! Sorry my flight was so delayed!" He then hisses into his ear, "Your fan-girls followed me from my hotel and I don't want to make another international incident." He raises his voice again to normal speaking level, releasing Yuri, "Let's go get food."

Yuri lets himself be dragged to the museum cafe, standing in line and plucking a random salad without looking at the label. They find a table and Yuuri releases a sigh, stirring a spoon into his soup. His hair is ruffled from his hands and he looks up at Yuri, "Go ahead and eat."

" _Itadakimasu_ ," Yuri mumbles as Yuuri beams and clips his long bangs back with a clip. He chews the chicken pieces without any enthusiasm, waiting for a lecture about how _irresponsible_ and _rash_ he was yesterday and how much trouble he's in and how the old sock is already revamping the rest of his schedule to make up for his actions. He can already hear Yakov lecturing in his head.

"Sibelius Monument is only a thirty minute walk from here, we should go there after this and take pictures," Yuuri calmly starts, "Is there anything you want to do after this? We still have time to go to the military fortress. There's cannons."

"...Why are you being nice to me?" He grumbles as Yuuri finishes his soup and tackles a parfait, "I _know_ I'm in trouble. Yakov and Victor even recruited Klara into calling me since morning and they haven't stopped." He risked googling his name before he left his hotel room and saw his and Otabek's name splashed on every celebrity gossip website.

"I know you know you're in trouble, that's why I'm the one who came and not Victor," Yuuri explains. Yuri sits up a little straighter, "If one of the other coaches came, you probably won't listen to them, so...I thought you'd be less angry because I'm not exactly representing them. I'm a neutral party. Sort of." 

"...."

"Victor's also at the mercy of the skating federation," Yuuri shrugs, "He would get yelled at." 

"Are you actually over him, Katsudon? You're awfully nice." Yuri digs a little, scowling back into his salad. With Yuuri's intentions clear, his appetite somewhat returns and he collects all his greens before shoving them in his mouth, "What you said is true, Victor is skating on thinner ice as a coach now, but sometimes it feels like all the air in the room has been by tension and both of you are ready to rip each other apart. It makes Beka and I uncomfortable."

"Phichit said the same thing," Yuuri comments dryly.

"It's so...tangerine."

"Tangible."

"Yeah, whatever," Yuri scowls. He doesn't like to be reminded of his high school diploma as the extent to his education considering that Otabek can regurgitate a dictionary on command. One sure way to kill a mood is to ask Otabek if physics is really philosophy and Yuri doesn't want to repeat the experience. "...How angry are they, Yuuri?"

Yuuri gives a helpless smile and a shrug, lacing his fingers together, "I really don't know, but Yakov is very...emotional—"

"That means he's ready to throw me onto the freeway."

"—and Victor is amused and exasperated at the same time. He's really sorry about keeping it from you but Otabek said the gala program was meant to be a surprise. We all thought you knew that he would at least be retiring..." Yuri can hear the hesitance in Yuuri's voice, and he feels the quick flush of wanting to hide, which was stupid because he's the Ice Tiger of Russia and he never backs down—

Yuuri grabs his tray and balances it on one arm. Yuri looks up at his smiling face, "Let's go to that monument, Yurio."

Yuri can only follow, confused but a little thankful. He puts his shades on his face, leaving Yuuri to lead them as they walk along the streets, the mid June sun beaming down happily at them. It felt weird to wake up at five all by himself, no Sasha sleeping on his foot or Otabek giving him a sour smoothie for breakfast or fighting who gets to spit out their toothpaste first into the sink. 

_Ugh. The mushy feelings are back again._

"Do you ever know someone so emotionally constipated you want to shake them?" Yuri really wanted to say strangle, but he's getting better maintaining his composure, knowing that words are a weapon (one of the life lesson taught to him by Otabek whoop-dee-fucking-doo). Yuuri turns to him as they wait at a corner for the light to change, eyes curious.

"...Not exactly."

"Well first it was Victor with his fake smiles, then it was Mickey Mouse always being angry all the time and now it's Beka."

"Otabek's quiet for sure, but I thought he was shy."

"He's not shy, he just has a tendency to pick his words carefully before talking, and by then most people already think he's a quiet or awkward guy." He's glad that Yuuri picked up the pace, trying to lose sight of the photographers tagging along. Yuri's restless from not doing his morning exercise and he catches up to Yuuri, "But I don't understand why he thought it was okay to keep me hidden in the dark like this. Wouldn't you be angry if you were in my position?"

"Of course I would."

"Right? So what the hell is that _jerk_ thinking? I..." Yuri breaks off, looking forward, "First Victor left to coach you, and then you retired after Barcelona. Chris retired after Worlds that year, and then Georgi followed him.... And now Otabek's leaving. Everyone's leaving me."

Aside from Mila, there won't be anyone left in the Senior circuit he's close to. It'll be like his last year in the junior circuit again, everyone distancing themselves away from him because no one can match him. It's so lonely on the top.

"He wouldn't leave you without a good reason."

" _I know,_ " Yuri can't help but snarl. Otabek always has everyone's best intentions but sometimes it's not the right thing to do!

Yuuri puts a hand on his shoulder, looking up into his eyes, "Then let's enjoy Helsinki before going back, okay? Make every moment count. You didn't come here to mope about him I bet."

Yuri gets dragged to the Monument, glad the sunglasses are hiding his slightly wet eyes as Yuuri oohs and aahs at the metal artwork. Yuri poses with Yuuri for a couple of photos when the photographers politely ask them for a picture, giving a statement that he's taking the weekend off to clear his head. Yuuri thanks them for their time and lets Yuri lead him away to a cafe to escape the sun.

"When did you even arrive?" Yuri asks, sipping his soda, his diet be damned, "And how did you find me?" 

"Yuri's Angles."

"Of course." He sighs, looking out the cafe's large windows to see locals hurry along the street. Some college students are sitting on the streets, laughing over something, "Thanks, by the way, for coming."

"You're welcome," Yuuri smiles at him, pulling out his phone and scrolling through a site before showing him a list, "These are suggested places tourists should visit, where do you want to want to go afterwards?"

Yuri pulls his phone closer, eyes going down the list as the quiet buzz of the cafe fades away, a distant hum as he makes a mental note to buy a ticket back to Moscow tomorrow night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i spent six hours looking at touristy things to do in helsinki  
> (i'm conflicted. i love isabella but i also love seungjj)
> 
> before i knew it, i already wrote half the next chapter with more of the otabek/yuri angst and if you come here mainly for victuuri sorry but it looks like otabek/yuri is going to have more screen time than i planned :') victuuri's going to appear for sure though...my fingers just have a mind of their own... i hope you don't mind TvT
> 
> i'm sorry if this chapter is quite slow ;v;


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: oh i have four more days before i go back to school  
> me:  
> me:  
> me: I HAVE FOUR DAYS TO FINISH THIS?!
> 
> on another note, there's going to be more snow for canada on new years. there's five layers of ice outside on my street and none of my neighbours are shoveling, send help.
> 
> not beta'd

Once they passed security, Yuuri leads him to the pick up zone, walking towards Victor's car and reminding Yuri to put his sunglasses on when the paparazzi starts to descend on them.

Yuri's exhausted from travelling in economy (read: no leg room) and having only slept for two hours because he and Yuuri wanted to cram in every single thing Helsinki has to offer before catching their early flight back to Sheremetyevo. Yuuri takes care of both their carry-ons as he yawns, opening the car door and sliding in.

"Good morning."

He sees Otabek in the backseat. Victor, who's driving, immediately presses a button and the door closest to Yuri locks.

Even so, he turns away from his boyfriend and scrambles to get himself out, fuming at the old sock and Katsudon for planning this beforehand. When Yuuri slides into the passenger seat and Victor pulls out, Yuri is taking his third deep breath, ready to continue spewing insults out of his mouth when a small mew shuts him up.

Sasha jumps up from where she's been lying on Otabek's shoes, putting her paws on his shoulders as she rubs her face on his cheek. Yuri settles into a state of half agitation and half relaxation, letting his cat purr her way throughout the car ride to the apartment.

Victor's mumbling something into his headset as Yuuri slips an eye mask and headphones, choosing to sleep. Yuri refuses to acknowledge his prick of a boyfriend, but he tilts his chin to the left minutely, just the slightest of a degree, "Thanks for taking care of Sasha."

"...No problem."

In an act so petty that Yuri feels embarrassed he actually did it, he takes Sasha and her bag of cat food from Otabek's apartment and goes into his own, slamming the door to prove a point.

It's stupid. It's childish, and he's horrified. He can hear JJ howling from the land of beavers and maple syrup about how unreasonable he is. From the peephole, he sees Otabek stare at his door before sighing and hobbling back to his room a door down.

He slides down the door, breathing in the stagnant air and burying his head in Sasha's soft fur.

Why is he like this?

* * *

Return of Russia's Ice Tiger  
Published on June 20th, written by Vera Ivanova 

Following his abrupt decision to spend a weekend in Helsinki with a close friend and formal rival Yuuri Katsuki, Yuri Plisetsky has returned to Moscow. The nineteen year old said that he needed a breath of fresh air, and looks forward to hitting the ice again to continue his season under Victor Nikiforov. Some speculate that he flew out of the country because of a fight with his boyfriend, Otabek Altin, but both parties have said no comment regarding the matter, though Mr. Plisetsky have indirectly said otherwise in a phone video. When a fan asked where Mr. Altin was, the nineteen year old brushed it off with a cold, "Otabek? He's dead to me."

* * *

"Look, it's already mid July," Victor crosses his arms as Yuri and Otabek stand in front of him in the lobby, sweaty from their afternoon run. Inside in Rink One, Yuuri is taking notes as Klara and Nikita demonstrate a pair lift, "Yura, you've had weeks to get settled. Assignments are already out and we need to start working on the exhibition, and I'm not going to waste Klara's and Nikita's time when both of you still aren't talking..."

Otabek keeps quiet, wondering why he's dragged in here when all he's been trying to do is talk to Yuri. It's gotten so bad that Yuri leaves the dormitory before Otabek even drags himself out of bed and wears headphones when they're running together or hitting the gym together. His mood has plummeted even more when he turned a corner the other day and slammed into Phichit. The shiner he earned is still aching and very tender. He follows this with a lot of ibuprofen. 

"—I don't care what you're doing tonight, but before we start tomorrow morning, I want you two back to normal, okay?" Victor orders, "Go home today, both of you aren't focusing."

"Victor!—"

"I'm _forbidding_ you to step on the ice until both of you fix this," Victor lays the ultimatum loud and clear. Otabek whips his head to him, not believing that his coach would do this to him when they're at the peak of their training— _does he even realize how behind Otabek is?_

The bus ride back was stifling. 

Otabek leaves his apartment door open with a door stopper and goes to the middle of the living room floor, unrolling a mat and stretching his ankle out. The brace still has to stay on for at least two more weeks, but his physiotherapist said it's healing nicely. He listens to the other sounds of the apartment, noting that it's dead quiet because the rest of the skaters are still in training. He should be with them too, working out the kinks on his back and cleaning up his routine.

"...Otabek," A voice calls out.

He sits up to see Yuri walk in, hovering in the doorway as he holds his clippers, "Um...do you want a haircut?"

He runs a hand through his hair, the undercut grown out and his bangs brushing his ears, "Sure," Yuri walks to the balcony and Otabek lays newspapers to catch the hair, glad that it's the type of summer day where there's no wind and only unbearable heat. The thermostat outside reads 35 Celcius, and Otabek sheds his t-shirt and leans backward on his stool.

Yuri's hands are cold as the clipper buzzes, the teeth going through his hair several times in one area before it reaches the length Otabek usually has for competition seasons. The thickness of it really only bothers him during the summer time, but he mostly spends his days in the rink or the air conditioned gym anyway. Yuri's gentle fingertips brushes the little chunks of hair off his shoulders every now and then, skirting around his sensitive nape. 

"May I speak now?"

"...You may."

"First," He starts, closing his eyes as more clumps of hair falls on the newspapers. Yuri tilts his head forward, and he complies, "I'm sorry for not telling you. I...wasn't sure of my decision with retirement. What I told Victor was that this season might be my last or second to last."

"What is it now?"

"It's my last. I'm going to announce my retirement after the Four Continents."

Yuri doesn't say a word, but Otabek can imagine the hurt and betrayal on his face all the same anyway. He focuses his attention to the paint peeling off the iron railings.

"...And you want to skate together as your gala."

"...If you'll let me, yes."

"Why?" Yuri finally raises his voice. The clipper is turned off and there's a cold hand roughly wiping Otabek's bare shoulders, "Why are you leaving me? Has the sport become boring to you? Are you tired of competing against me? _Was winning gold enough for you, Altin?_ " Otabek turns around to see Yuri's blue green eyes watering, hair clipped up with the clip Otabek bought from Kazakhstan. Yuri bites his lip harshly and he furiously blinks the tears back, "I thought we still had a few more years to skate with each other! With Emil and JJ! With Seung-gil! With Mila!"

"I don't want to skate with halfhearted intentions. It feels like I'm disappointing my country if I do, and I want to leave the ice on my own free will."

Yuri doesn't cry, but he punches Otabek. His fist pounds Otabek's back with no more strength than a soft animal batting its mother, but Otabek still feels terrible either way. When he retires, there's no reason for him to stay here. He can't coach because he's too young— younger than Victor when _he_ retired— and he doesn't think he's comfortable taking on a student anyway. The media will release stories of his career, but he will disappear in a few months, or even weeks.

He cleans up the newspapers, cradling it carefully as he places it inside his trash can. He brings back the stool and unplugs the clipper from the wall socket near the balcony and puts it on his coffee table. He picks Yuri up and brings him to the couch, a feat he's proud he can still do because it reminds him of when Yuri hasn't hit his growth spurt, the golden days in Barcelona and the following months where he joined Yuri in Hasetsu for the cherry blossom season. 

The waterworks have started, and Otabek does what he does best when Yuri is angry and hurting; he rubs circles onto his back and lets the salty tears collect on his collarbones, repeating his apologies to deaf ears.

* * *

 Otabek ALTIN (KAZ): Skate Canada, Tropheé de France

Phichit CHULANOT (THAI): Tropheé de France, NHK Trophy

Leo DE LA IGLESIAS (USA): Skate America, Cup of China

Guang Hong JI (CHN): Skate Canada, NHK Trophy

Seung-gil LEE (KOR): Skate Canada, Cup of China

Jean-Jacques LEROY (CAN): Rostelecom Cup, NHK Trophy

Emil NIKOLA (CZE): Rostelecom Cup, Cup of China

Yuri PLISETSKY (RUS): Skate America, Rostelecom Cup

* * *

Otabek skates over to Yuri, lying spread eagle at the end closest to the entrance of the rink, blond hair pooling on the surface. A pair of sunglasses is perched on his straight nose as his fingers play with the one earbud in his ear.

"Do you want to do cool down stretches together?"

Yuri shakes his head, pulling the only earbud out, "Victor's making me listen to my free program music until it lives inside of me. Sorry."

Otabek bites back the disappointment and nods, skating to the entrance and putting his guards on. They're not finished training for the day, but Victor's having them stay in the rink until Klara finishes with her ice dancers so she can work them through the last few steps of the gala dance. Out of habit and Georgi's influence, Otabek scouts for damage control on twitter and sees nothing new. Yuri hasn't put back his initials on his account, and his heart sinks a little further.

"He'll come around," Yuuri says one day, looking away as he helps Otabek with his splits. Phichit is sent on coffee duty on his lunch break, taking Klara's shiba inu for a walk at the same time. "He's just processing it, that's all."

With all the coaches busy, Yuuri has taken upon himself to help Otabek with his stretches, but he thinks it's because he doesn't want him to feel lonely. Regardless of the reason, it's appreciated.

Otabek gives a noncommittal hum.

"Look at it this way, the more someone stews about it, the more they care about the topic. You're very important to Yurio, Otabek."

"...I know," Despite Yuri's actions lately, he knows that much at least. "I feel terrible that I'm the cause of his pain. It's just hard to bear because I don't know what I want to do afterwards myself."

Yuuri takes off the brace and starts rolling the ankle left and right in a gentle circle, "Not being nosy, but what were you thinking of doing?"

"Chulanot says I should travel, and I want to visit Mongolia. And Iceland." He watches Yuri switch with Phichit on the ice, skating to the barriers to grab his water bottle and towel, "And then I guess get a degree in sports science. Both my parents are engineers from MIT."

Yuuri lets out an impressed wow, "What kind?"

Otabek lowers his voice, a little embarrassed, "Both have masters in aeronautics and astronautics." He doesn't freely give everyone he knows this fact. It's a little shameful his parents worked with all sort of formulas and he has trouble remembering how logarithms worked, "Please don't tell anyone."

"I won't," Yuuri promises, "But wow. _That's so impressive_."

"Otabek!" Victor calls from the ice as Klara and Nikita skate in circles on the ice, "Let's go!"

Otabek, Yuuri, Yuri and Victor stay at the sides as Klara start going over the very last segment of the ice dance, first going through the elements slowly, then at full speed, then with the music. Klara reminds Otabek of a more subdued Victor at the height of his skating, talented but more humble.

Klara and Nikita struck their final pose and Phichit cheers from the bleachers, clapping enthusiastically as Klara beams and skates forward, "What do you think?"

Victor is all praise, wiping a fake tear about how it touched his heart, "I normally don't like jazz but that was _stunning_."

"Well, I had to do Gershwin justice," She laughs, turning to Otabek and Yuri, "Ready to try it out? Why don't you two warm up by going from the top?"

Otabek and Yuri jump up to sit on the barrier, facing each other across the rink as they wait for the music. When the smooth trill starts, he waits until it the faintest of the low brasses join in, smoothly hopping off and gliding on one leg in a semi circle to Yuri, taking all the time in the world like the music suggests. Otabek personally tampered with the music and eliminated several bars and pages to keep it from exceeding four minutes. 

Yuri doesn't make eye contact as they start doing twizzles side by side, body moving automatically like a robot as Otabek sneaks a glance to Victor. All the coaches frown back at him.

"What's the point of this?" Yuri steps out of a serpentine. The trumpet fanfare continues as he skates angrily to Victor, "What's the point of performing a gala together when we're not even going to the same competitions?!"

"You can perform it at the Grand Prix Finals," Victor says in a calm manner as Otabek skates towards the little group. Phichit has stopped the music and is throwing him a worried look, "In Marseille."

"We can change it," Klara cuts in quietly, looking between Victor and Yuri. Otabek shares a look with Yuuri, who shakes his head to not interfere, "If there's a part you don't like, Yuri, just tell me."

Yuri's cheeks turns splotchy, "No Klara, it's fine. It's—" He meets Otabek's eyes briefly before looking back on the ice, "—I can't skate this."

Otabek watches him glide to sides, slipping his guards on and walking out of the rink with his bag. Far away, he can hear Klara telling Yuuri and Victor that she'll try to coax him out, rushing off to follow him. The world doesn't stop on its axis, but he's never felt colder standing in an ice rink.

"Can I go home early?"

Victor's voice seems far away even though he's right next to him, "Sure, are you.... Do you need me to drive you home?"

Otabek avoids his outstretched hand by moving backwards, "No, I'm good." A lie. Otabek removes the skates off and ignores the juniors in the lobby taking a break, pushing the changing room doors and stripping. He shoves his head under the hot water and methodically goes through the motions of showering. 

Phichit is standing near his bag when he steps out, towel around his waist as his hair is plastered to his skull.

"Chulanot."

"Do you want to grab a drink after dinner?" Phichit asks kindly, "Victor gave his permission for you to have some beer—"

Otabek shakes his head, pulling up his Kazakhstan sweatpants and pulling a t-shirt over his head. "I will be fine," He says curtly. Some junior boys enter the changing rooms and go to the other end, laughing loudly over what happened at school, "Thank you for worrying."

"Otabek!"

He zips up his jersey and walks out, eyes stinging. The back exit is closer so he goes along that hallway instead, wiping his eyes furiously as the tears keep on leaking out. His throat is so tight that he doesn't say anything when a pair of hands turn him over and shoves a pair of aviators on his face.

"...I'll drive you home," Victor says, picking up his duffel bag that fell from his shoulders with a practiced swing. Makkachin is with him today, and she trots happily around Otabek in a circle as he wipes his nose.

"What?" 

"You look dreadful with your splotchy nose," Victor slings an arm around him and hands him a packet of tissues, lowering his voice, "I figure you would want to get home as fast as possible. I'm on coffee duty anyway today, I'll drive you home before going back."

Otabek mumbles his thanks, shuffling into the passenger's seat as Makkachin scrambles over the gear stick to sit in his lap. Victor turns on the radio to provide background noise and drives in silence, letting Otabek be content with giving Makkachin a thorough ear rub.

"I have to apologize to Klara."

"It's okay, Otabek, she understands." He throws Victor a sharp look, "Fight happen between pairs more often than you think."

"Do you _really_ think we'll skate together by the end of the Grand Prix?"

Victor shrugs, "Speaking as a coach and your friend, I don't know. I didn't have many friends that would practice pair skating with me when I was under Yakov. The exception was Mila, but she was still young when she joined."

Otabek stares stonily out the window, not seeing the buildings whizz by. The numbness is held off at bay for now, but it'll come back full force when he's home.

"That's not what I meant, I don't think he'll forgive me," Otabek softly says.

Victor looks at him and looks back at the road, frowning sadly, "I don't know what to say, I'm sorry."

They arrive in front of the dormitory building, Victor scooping Makkachin from Otabek's lap and studying him with a twist in his mouth. Otabek tries not to look at his face, tugging his bag out and closing the door. "Thanks for the ride."

"Let me know if you're not coming to practice tomorrow."

"Maybe." With that, Otabek turns his back and presses his lanyard to the sensor at the side of the building. He goes in and takes the elevator, stumbling into his apartment and closing the door behind him.

He calls his cousin as he unpacks his bag, not used to the complete silence. Zarina is three years older than him, studying abroad for biomedical engineering. She's all cheers and smiles when he gets the video call hooked up and asks him how training is coming along. They exchange stories about their respective parents and she teases him about winning another gold.

"Hey, I'm not sure how accurate twitter is but are your rink mates treating you properly?" Zarina asks, looking up from a problem set for a lab. Otabek continues to chew the turkey wrap he made last night as he unconsciously stiffens, "Your name has popped up a lot of times."

"Don't tell my parents."

"I won't Auntie and Uncle if they're treating you nicely and the press is just over exaggerating."

"Everything is fine."

Zarina knows he's spewing lies, but doesn't push. Otabek switches to another topic and they keep on talking until Zarina has to leave for class. She wishes him luck and promises to try to watch the live-stream.

He peels his jersey off and crawls underneath the covers, texting Victor that he'll be at the rink tomorrow before sleep claims him.

* * *

 Otabek Altin Announces Coaching Team  
Published on September 23rd, written by Vera Ivanova 

Otabek Altin (21) has announced the team of coaches and and choreographers behind his upcoming season. The soon to be twenty-two year old is skating in Moscow's Iceberg Palace, home to Yakov Feltsman, Klara Babicheva and Victor Nikiforov. He started off under Nikiforov in preparation for his Olympic debut, which secured him a gold that broke the world record for highest short program score, and will be continuing under him for the foreseeable future. Klara Babicheva, world renowned former ice dancer, has confirmed to be the choreographer behind one of two exhibition programs. She will be working with Yuuri Katsuki, Japan's former ace. Altin's first competition this season will be Skate Canada, where he will be joined by Guang Hong Ji (CHN) and Seung-gil Lee (KOR) on October 29th.

* * *

August bleeds into September, and Victor doesn't seem to remember that Otabek stood on the tallest podium with an Olympic gold around his neck. He trains Otabek until all he can do when he comes home is crawl into the shower and fall asleep. He goes through his daily life with a certain amount of familiar numbness, grocery shopping by himself and listening to his playlist of classical music when he has his break time. 

In a painful reminder, he learns how to live by himself again, reducing his food portions and remembering that he can stretch out onto his bed without worry of hitting a limb. 

Victor and Yuuri (and by extension, Phichit) are always ready to swoop in and drag him to dinner if he doesn't look too dead on his feet. He has a bleeding suspicion that on the days Victor is with him, Yuuri would be with Yuri and vice versa. He doesn't hate it.

When he wakes up shivering one morning, he belated realizes the leaves outside have started to shed. He sprawls spread eagle on his bed, studying the stucco ceiling as he hears his floor mates waking up to go to practice. Physically, Otabek is at his peak form, ankle fully healed and his body ready to take on another day of Victor repeating _one more time, Otabek!_

He takes the fire escape, going down several flights of stairs and out the side doors before walking to the bus. He says good morning to his coaches and takes off onto the ice, not making eye contact with Yuri. Everything is cold and numb and he nearly forgets what warmth feels like until he's at the airport, sending off the skaters who are participating in Skate America.

He takes off his sunglasses as the team wishes Yuri and Mila good luck in Chicago. Victor has already gone ahead past the security point, entertaining Yakov as they go for coffee. Otabek hangs back with Phichit, waiting for Yuuri as he hugs Yuri. 

"Good luck," Otabek sincerely wishes when Yuri has let Yuuri go and he's the only left who hasn't said anything.

Yuri ducks his head, "Thanks."

Yuuri looks at him and Phichit, "Ready to go? You'll have to drive us back, Otabek."

"Sure," He hums without concern, patting his pant pockets for the keys to Victor's car, "Can we work on my step sequence when we go back, Katsuki?— Oof!"

His aviators slip from his head and skids across the ground, coming to a stop a few feet away from him. Something broad and heavy hits him in the back, and Otabek automatically twists in midair to avoid breaking his nose. His shoulder blades take the brunt of his fall, and he can hear the cameras snapping and flashing as someone sits on his thighs. Yuri is leaning down at him, eyebrows pulled down, " _I'll beat you in the Grand Prix Final!_ " His cheeks are flushed and Otabek can only stare at him when Mila starts laughing.

His hands comes up to grab the front of Otabek's jersey as he turns to hiss at Yuuri and Phichit, " _Turn around right now!_ "

Amused, they both comply and turn their heads away.

Yuri turns back to him, face flaming by now as Otabek arches an eyebrow in question, propping himself up on his elbows.

"I-I mean what I said! That gold will be mine!" The declaration makes Otabek smile, "Don't smile mockingly at me, you ass!"

"I'm not mocking you, Yura, I'll take your challenge head on." Otabek sits up and wraps his hands around Yuri's waist to keep him from toppling over. He does not realize how heavy his heart has been until now; it feels like a simple gust of wind can carry him away, "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"Somewhat," Yuri replies testily, crossing his arms and scowling at a spot over his shoulder. He's still red and Otabek wishes there aren't a whole horde of photographers snapping pictures of them right now. "I'm still a little mad. I need to talk to you when we're home at the same time."

" _Yuri! They're waving at us!_ "

" _A few more seconds, hag!_ "

"Good luck in America, say hi to Leo for me."

Yuri pouts, "Okay." He meets Otabek's eyes for a split second and pointedly turns his cheek towards him.

"Can I kiss you?"

Yuri nods. 

Otabek doesn't stop the silly grin forming and slides his hand on Yuri's smooth jaw, moving his head as he kisses his mouth. Yuri stiffens at first but reciprocates eagerly, ignoring Phichit's gasp and the photographers going nuts behind them. 

" _YURI!_ "

Otabek releases him and pulls him up to his feet, "Go, go, you'll miss your flight." He offers his fist and smiles when Yuri fist bumps it, watching him run towards Mila and the stony faced security officer who scans their boarding passes and ushers them inside.

"Yura! Davai!"

Yuri turns back and grins, giving him a thumbs up.

Mila Babicheva @mbabicheva 2m  
With @y-plisetsky in @chi_marriott_nw! Hello Chicago! #Chicago #SkateAmerica

   
ISU Figure Skating @ISU_Figure Oct 22  
Men Short Program Result  
1\. Yuri Plisetsky  
2\. Nathan Chen  
3\. Leo de la Iglesias

Otabek is sandwiched between Yuuri and Phichit as the latter fiddles with cords connecting his laptop to the flat screen in their apartment. He hides a yawn as they tune in to watch the men's free skate.

The nine hour time difference really made Otabek question if it was worth dragging himself to Yuuri's apartment when he woke up wrapped in his warm blankets. He said his concerns over on the phone to Phichit, who casually mentioned that he still had some pineapple cakes in his house.

Otabek got dressed immediately.

"Is it working?" Phichit asks, craning his neck as he tries to wiggle out of the tight squeeze between the wall and the TV stand. Yuuri gives him a thumbs up and Phichit oozes relief, jumping back on the couch as the third skater goes on ice. The image on the screen blurs a little before it refocuses. 

Otabek eats his helping of blueberry oatmeal, thankful that Yuuri has the magical ability to make anything he touches taste good. Most mornings were reserved for a protein shake, and fruit smoothies, for Otabek and Yuri have trouble functioning when the skies are still dark.

"Everything's good with Yurio?"

"We still have to talk, but Yura seems to have forgiven me...for now." Otabek pokes a fat blueberry with his spoon, knowing that Phichit has lost interest in the Chinese representative skating on the ice and is eavesdropping, "I can understand his anger."

"That was a hot kiss though," Phichit nudges him as Otabek feels his face darken, " _The press was ecstatic!_ Have you seen Twitter? _"_

"I don't want to," Otabek huffs, regretting being squished between the prince of social media and Japan's former ace.

"You two were trending at #7 for an entire 36 hours," Phichit sings, "There's more than a five hundred thousand replays on my Instagram! Everyone loves you two and wish you all the best." The statistics of his very public kiss with Yuri continues well onto Yuri's performance, where Phichit stays mostly quiet throughout his performance, nodding along to the commentator even though he understands close to zero Russian. 

"Scores please for Yuri Plisetsky," Yuuri translate for Phichit, watching the numbers pop up and Yuri standing up to wave at the audience from the kiss and cry, "Not close to his previous record, but he won!" 

Phichit is already spamming his Twitter, thumbs a blur across the screen, "YES! GO YURI!"

On screen, Victor is all smiles as he takes off his gloves and shakes Yuri's hand for the cameras, answering some quick questions before the live-stream switches off and changes to the press conference. Usually, he would brush the act off, but this time he feels the smile slip off his face as Yuuri sits up straight, inhaling sharply.

"...Why is my ring still on his finger?"

On screen, Yuri has turned a sickly shade of white underneath his costume, looking at Victor's finger as he struggles to hold his composure. The cameraman seems to have noticed it himself, keeping the shot on Victor even though Yuri is nervously biting his tongue off in answering a question.

" _Otabek, why is my ring still on his finger?!_ "

"It's always under his gloves," Otabek mumbles.

" _I...What?_ "

"His gloves, he wears them whenever he's in the rink. He never takes the ring off unless it's for formal conferences." Otabek remembers the way Victor had zipped up the pocket of his Olympic jersey, ring safely tucked inside. He turns to look carefully at Yuuri, "Would this change anything?"

"...No,  _no_ it would not." Otabek knows he's lying. Yuuri's face flushes as he looks at anywhere but the screen, his eyebrows pulling in together, "Why does he still have it, Otabek? H-He hates me for coming back. I...I...."

"He never took it off."

That seemed to be the nail on the coffin. Yuuri stands up and grabs his coat, hastily mumbling about going out for a quick walk. 

Phichit sighs and unhooks his laptop from the TV, cutting Victor in mid speech about Yuri's performance. Otabek brings their empty bowls of oatmeal into the kitchen, washing them and placing it in the drying rack. 

"I think you already know, but Yuri never got over him," Phichit confesses, wrapping the long connection cords in his hands as he leans beside the fridge.

"...I figured it was something like that," He was about to ask a question when his phone buzzes.

Yura: please tell me katsudon didn't see it

Phichit reads over his shoulder and they both share a look before Otabek gives Yuri the bad news. 

ISU Figure Skating @ISU_Figure Oct 23  
Men Results #SkateAmerica #GPFigure  
1\. Yuri Plisetsky  
2\. Leo de la Iglesia  
3\. Nathan Chen

It's a cold evening when Victor emerges out of the airport with Yuri, sunglasses present. Otabek is leaning against Victor's car with Yuuri and Phichit, the former's face stone cold and unreadable. Reporters have tried asking Yuuri what his thoughts were on the ring, but quickly give up when Yuuri refuses to open his mouth and turns his attention to his phone.

" _Mr. Nikiforov! Are you two back together?_ "

" _Did you fix your relationship in the months training your students together?_ "

" _Was this all planned from the start?_ "

The babble continues as Victor draws Yuri close to him, shouldering his way through the cameras and microphones shoved in his line of vision until he reaches his car. Beside him, Otabek hears Yuuri take in a deep breath when the last reporter skitters out of the way and Victor takes off his sunglasses.

Yuuri throws him his keys. Victor reflexively catches them with his left hand, opening his mouth, confused and hurt, "Yuuri?"

"Let's go," Yuuri mumbles.

Otabek gives Yuuri a helmet as Phichit and Yuri pack their bags in the car's trunk. He wasn't sure why Yuuri wanted to go with him to drop off Victor's car for him, but he doesn't ask questions. Yuri gives him a worried look that he mirrors before he pulls his visor down and starts the engine.

Yuuri's arms never loosens around his waist the entire time they make their way back to Moscow. Otabek wishes him a good night when he stops in front of Phichit's apartment. Yuuri manages a sad smile, giving a wave and slipping inside the door, "Sorry about the helmet."

He studies the helmet in his hands, turning it around before patting the cushioning lining the jaw and mouth, damp with tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they totes fist bump as well give thumbs up.
> 
> thank you for all the comments and support! (actually, my ao3 has been broken (?) for the past year because the comments don't get registered in the comment section when i log in...i should fix this.)
> 
> Nathan Chen is an actual skater representing USA! at first i personally thought he was a bit cocky for the amount of quads in his free program but he delivered.  
> Stepanova/Bukin should have won gold in the Russian Nationals. i'm so salty. their free dance was amazing with those low twizzles aaaa


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter woo! thank you for loving this story so much! 
> 
> not beta'd
> 
> (yeah the victuuri part is rushed, i'm so sorry, i have to wrap this up before school starts again)

Otabek and Yuri skip their morning warm up. Fighting their way through the reporters and paparazzi filled in their quota for the day, if not more. Rink Two and Three were already lit with Klara's ice dancers and Mila warming up on the smooth ice. 

Phichit's doing backward crossovers on the ice, heading over to them.

"Morning," He seems glum, and the expression is mirrored in Yuri's and Otabek's dark circles. "Yuuri and Victor are getting a lecture from Yakov in his office. The old man finally lost it."

"And the damage control?" Yuri asks, looking at the hallway that has every coach's office. From where they're standing, Otabek can barely see the figures in there.

"Bad. Really bad. I can't understand Russian but even I feel like I've done something wrong when Yakov stormed in and dragged both of them out."

With that to greet their morning, Yuuri and Victor eventually stumble into the rink, both looking harassed and dead on their feet. They seem to not want to acknowledge each other's existence, and Otabek knows that this wasn't going to get resolved soon even though Yakov had personally lectured them. If anything, they were both too prideful. 

"Victor, drop off our bags at the dorm will you?" Yuri demands after practice has ended, swooping into his office. Otabek winces and adds please. 

Victor looks them up and down, noting the leather jackets and helmets in Otabek's grasp. He arches a brow, "Having a date so soon before Otabek leaves? You young'uns are really something aren't you?" Yuri sends him a glare, " _Okay_ , okay, just leave it here and I'll take care of it because I'm a very generous person."

Over at his table, Yakov shoots him a moody glare. 

Yuri pushes him out the office, yelling thanks over his shoulder and jamming his tiger printed helmet on. His braid hangs loose and Otabek wraps his scarf around his neck, ignoring Yuri's protest.

"It's going to be really cold, trust me," Otabek taps his nose before bringing the visor down. Yuri wraps his arms around his waist and they weave into the traffic, giving him instructions by tapping twice on either his left or right thigh for turns. The restaurant isn't packed for a Wednesday night, but Otabek leaves tomorrow for Skate Canada and he only has so much time between practice that his talk with Yuri was forced to be pushed back this late.

"First," Yuri clears his throat and holds up one hand when Otabek was about to apologize, "I'm sorry it took me so long. I just had to think."

"Okay."

"...That's it? You're not going to fight me?"

"It's my fault in the first place for keeping you hidden in the dark," Otabek murmurs, looking at Yuri, "I know I messed up, I'm sorry. I'll update you on the decisions I make from now on." He pokes his pasta around as Yuri munches on some garlic bread, already halfway finished with his ravioli.

"You're an idiot."

"I'm an idiot."

"I can't believe you wanted to retire and _you didn't tell me,_ " Yuri flatly says, shooting a look that hints he's very exasperated at him.

"I'm sorry."

" _Beka_."

"I have no common sense." Otabek mumbles into his food. Yuri continues to give him the same unimpressed look, stealing shrimp from his plate. Zarina had always laughed about how engrossed he was in his own world as a child, first with taekwondo (a pretty well known sport in Kazakhstan, and the fact that there was a studio a block away from his aunt's and uncle's doesn't hurt either), then skating.

"...So which universities have you been looking at?" Yuri manages to sound normal even though some words are punctuated with sadness.

"My parents have given me a list of schools in the States but I don't think my SAT scores are good enough for the ones I want to go to. I might go to England, maybe." Yuri's eyes glazes over when he mentioned SATs, "Do you ever think of post-secondary?"

"I'm too busy training for that," He huffs, opening his mouth when Otabek offers another shrimp, "Is Katsudon still flying to Mississauga with Victor tomorrow? I was walking Klara's dog during break."

Otabek gives a weak smile, "Only because Victor has sponsors to talk to that overlaps the competition days. He was about to cancel his flight when Yakov pulled him aside."

Yuri cleans up his undercut when they get home, absently commenting about how Otabek's biceps have grown and he needs new t-shirts since the sleeves are already stretched out.

He grins, "Were you ogling at my arms, Plisetsky?"

Yuri loudly threatens to shave him bald. Otabek doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the night and only gets pushed off the bed once when he brings it up twice. 

Otabek thinks it's cute. Yuri threatens to maim his hair again.

"Beka, give me your phone."

Otabek pats his nightstand and hands it over to Yuri, rolling over to see what he's doing when he pulls up Otabek's twitter. He adds his initials back onto his bio, doing the same with Instagram.

"I fixed it."

Otabek laughs and snuggles Yuri harder, their legs tangling below the blanket.

ISU Figure Skating @ISU_Figure Nov 13  
Men Results #TropheédeFrance #GPFigure  
1\. Phichit Chulanot  
2\. Otabek Altin  
3\. Nathan Chen 

ISU Figure Skating @ISU_Figure Nov 6  
Men Results #RostelecomCup #GPFigure  
1\. Yuri Plisetsky  
2\. Jean-Jacques Leroy  
3\. Emil Nikola 

ISU Figure Skating @ISU_Figure Oct 30  
Men Results #SkateCanada #GPFigure  
1\. Otabek Altin  
2\. Seung-gil Lee  
3\. Guang Hong Ji

Klara purses her lip as Otabek and Yuri guzzle water. Neither he, Phichit or Yuri are assigned to the Cup of China, so both Victor and Yuuri are home for once, fighting jet lag from Paris with a lot of coffee. Both have resorted to talking to each other through people. There was a betting pool organized by one of the juniors about when Yakov was going to give them another lecture. Georgi found out, and the retired skater fumed before sending them all to Yakov's office.

"Have you two talked?"

Victor blearily looks at him, eyes sad as Otabek stands in his office after practice, "I'm too busy to talk. Where's your boyfriend?"

Otabek sighs, "He's still showering. You're being childish. Everyone has the same number of hours in the day, it's just the matter of doing what we prioritize."

"I don't think I should fix this."

"Why not?" Otabek is taken back as Victor gloomily looks at him, weary.

"...He was the one who pushed me away."

"Forgive me for butting in, but I don't think you ever gotten over Katsuki.... Why don't you talk to him? It would clear the situation and put any misinterpretations to rest. It's still not too late."

His last words seems to ring in the air. " _Not too late?_  Do you know what he last said to me before I left? 'Stop trying to fix everything, Vitya!' What you're telling me to do is to fix whatever we have left, which Yuuri doesn't want."

"But both of you are hurting."

"It doesn't matter," Victor mournfully looks over in a corner before looking up at him. Otabek doesn't know what expression he has on his face, but Victor shakes his head, "Don't pity me, I've had enough of the team throwing me pitying looks and bringing me back here—"

Incredulous, Otabek opens his mouth and cuts him off _, "You think you're here today because they pitied you?_ "

"I called Yakov on the train after I left because I felt lost. He told me there was an open coaching position and told me that I should fly back there."

" _No_ ," Otabek sets his jaws, two years' worth of memories swirling on the tip of his tongue, "Coach Yakov and Yura didn't take you back because they pitied you, they brought you over because they care about your well-being, and I do, too." How many times had he stood in the middle of the podium with the roar of the crowd deafening his ears and his tongue tingling with the taste of victory? "You've...you've given me more gold medals that I could have ever imagined and I want to help." 

"But it's too—"

"There's no such thing as 'too late'. There is only regret you will carry for the rest of your life. Katsuki told me he's going to be leaving after this and I will be retiring; there will be nothing else for him to stay for. You should try to talk while he's still with us."

Victor frowns, "Did you ever think about how _I_ felt, Otabek? He closed me off and then suddenly intruded back into my life," He pats his chest, right over his heart, "I still feel angry."

"But do you really think you deserve this sadness?" Because to him, it seems that both of them are punishing themselves by remaining silent, and he knows that Yuuri won't make a move because  _Yuuri_ was the one who drove Victor away. "Can you be content with not knowing how he really feels about you?"

There are so many things flitting in Victor's eyes, pain, anger, a flicker of nostalgia, and misery. He wets his mouth, "I don't want to hear it...I don't want to get hurt."

"Can you live like this then?" 

"...No."

"Then you have your answer," Otabek crouches down and reties his shoe lace, making a bunny loop and double knotting it, "My aunt and uncle always told me to change and do something if I'm not happy with the choices I can control."

Victor studies his hands until they hear footsteps. Yuri walks towards them, eyebrows raised, "Am I interrupting?"

"No, I was just about to leave," Otabek picks up his bag, turning to Victor and speaking to him as a friend, "You're leaving tomorrow with him for the NHK Trophy, maybe say something then." He gives him a curt dip of his head. Yuri spins Victor's car keys in his hand, walking beside him and leaning his head on Otabek.

"That sounded serious. Did you give the old man a kick in the ass?"

"Just a little push."

"That's good," Yuri mumbles, eyes ahead, "Both of them can be so stubborn."

Otabek hums a little, glad that Victor and Klara have granted them three rest days while they fly over to Sapporo. He intends to make this time to browse about the potential schools and spend time with Yuri.

Sasha trots into his apartment and goes next to the floor heater, curling up into a ball. Yuri joins him on the couch and wiggles his way into a comfortable position, looking at the websites, "What's this?"

"Universities."

"Can you handle learning in an all English environment?"

Otabek did not take that into account, "I'm sure I can learn." His parents did it. Zarina did it. Yuuri and Phichit did it.

Yuri grimaces, "You have fun with that." He puts his head on Otabek's shoulders, switching between his phone and whichever webpage Otabek happens to be on. "You really are going abroad...."

_Oh_.

"We can long distance," Yuri avoids his eyes and pulls his mouth down, "Are you worried about the distance?"

" _Aren't you?_ "

"No." Otabek's been called blunt by his rink-mates in Almaty, and the look of betrayal and shock Yuri gives him makes him backpedal while he can, "Don't take that the wrong way, that's not what I meant!"

" _Then what?_ " Yuri grouses.

"I mean I don't think distance will affect our relationship that much," After they spent a few weeks at Hasetsu, it was nearly two entire years (or maybe more, he doesn't remember off the top of his head) before they saw each other again where Yuri picked him up from the airport in Victor's car, "There will be time zones to deal with, but we'll make it work." 

Yuri sits up, turning his body to face him fully. Otabek moves his laptop to the coffee table, "Do you honestly think we can work?"

Otabek looks at him for a few seconds, at the furrowed brows and eyes swimming in worry before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss on his forehead. He pulls Yuuri on top of him, sliding his mouth down to his right cheek and pulling back to see Yuri's eyes flutter open.

"I'm not going to let distance come between us."

The statement sinks into the room, and Yuri puts his head on Otabek's chest, "I'll hold you to that promise."

Otabek hums, holding him in his arms and closing his eyes. He runs his fingers along Yuri's hair, long enough to be braided, "I didn't mean to sound like I don't care."

"I know," It comes out muffled from his chest. Yuri lifts his head, traces of baby fat from his cheeks long disappeared after the Olympics last year. He seems to be staring at Otabek too, eyes soft and the curve of his mouth set in a faint smile.

"...Why are you so handsome?"

Otabek turns his head to the side, embarrassed that a blush comes up easily. Yuri laughs, sitting up to put a movie on his laptop as he clicks his tongue. Otabek offers his arms again, and they make themselves comfortable on the couch, Sasha purring in Yuri's lap as the sun begins to set.

* * *

"That was hell," Phichit whimpers, rubbing his thighs as they wait at the luggage carousel for their bags. Victor has put on his sunglasses back on his face, a perfect definition of collected even though he suffered the same turbulence as Phichit did. Though for him, he booked a first class ticket because he refused to sit in economy where there's no leg room. 

Victor makes a sympathizing noise, pulling up the glasses to peer down at Phichit, "I can book a spa for you and get a masseuse if it's really bad." He tries to make all of his athletes well rested before the competition, "Actually that sounds nice, I should go for one."

"Aw, no it's fine!" Phichit waves it off, sliding up to Victor and putting his phone in front of them. Victor smiles for the Instagram picture and breaks the pose to haul two of the three bags from the conveyor belt as Phichit updates his world of their current location. As Victor searches for the third bag, spotting it nearby, he runs to it as Phichit raises his voice, "Yuuri! There you are!"

Yuuri, pale and less green than before he ran off to the bathrooms, walks up to them slowly. Victor pulls his phone out and flicks through his home page left and right, pretending to look busy as he waits for the wifi to connect. A text message from Yakov pops up and he responds to it, telling him they've landed safely. 

He rubs his ring finger, missing the gold band just a little as they file out and let Yuuri hail a taxi. Yuri had given him a chain before they left, and so Victor took the ring off and threaded it. He caught Yuuri looking at his hands earlier, but didn't say a thing.

Otabek's advice comes floating into his mind. Victor knows he has to talk, but he can't make Yuuri upset because it will make Phichit upset, which in turn, can affect his performance. Fate has a funny way of screwing everything together. 

He'll talk after the NHK Trophy is over.

Or would it be better after the GPF finishes? He can safely bet that Phichit will advance to the finals, but that doesn't end until the second week of December.

He pushes the thoughts out of his head, concentrating on Phichit's stumble in the official warm up. JJ is boisterously waving for his attention across the rink and Victor groans when he skates to him.

"Victor!"

"Aren't you supposed to be warming up?" His parents are pursing their lips from where they're standing a few feet down. JJ ignores all of this with a bright grin. Fortunately, he's toned down over the years, and Victor thinks it might have something to do with the merciless training camp he had when Seung-gil invited him to Korea for a summer, but he's still _loud_ and _annoying_ , "Say, how's Otabek? You're not bullying my dear friend and former rink-mate are you?"

"He's doing well, he'll crush you."

JJ throws back his head and laughs, skating back and nodding, managing to avoid Guang Hong by inches as he lands a quad toe. The Chinese skater breathes out, clutching his chest as he skates away. Victor wants to face palm, "Alright! I'll take him up for the challenge! I'm looking forward to beating his boyfriend too!"

Phichit skates towards him and Victor offers him his Makkachin tissue box, "Still the same as ever," Phichit remarks with a smile, blowing his nose and dropping the tissue into Victor's open palms. "Thanks."

"Where's your other coach?"

Phichit rolls his eyes but plays along, "My other coach is resting in his hotel room. Between flying from Russia to Canada to Russia to France to Russia to Japan, he caught a cold. All the travelling drained him."

"But I'm okay."

Another roll, this time with a smile, "This is his first time coaching you know, he's bound to be stressed out over Otabek's routine with the same concern he gives to mine. He's been laying off the stress eating pretty well since he also had to work with Klara and all but give him a break. I'm doing fairly well tonight, and you don't seem to have any complaints yet."

Victor doesn't see a hole in his logic, "Okay, you can leave the ice."

"Great!" Phichit pulls out his phone again and leans back into the barrier so Victor can get into the shot, "Cheeeese!"

ISU Figure Skating @ISU_Figure 6m  
Mens Results #NHKTrophy #GPFigure  
1\. Phichit Chulanot  
2\. Jean-Jacques Leroy  
3\. Guang Hong Ji    

Yuuri Katsuki @y-katsuki 1d  
-image- thank you for the flowers, I wish you could have left your name so I can thank you. I'm feeling better from my cold. 

Phichit Chulanot @phichit+chu 2d  
With @v-nikiforov in Makomanai Ice Arena for my next medal! #NHKTrophy #GPFigure

Phichit Chulanot @phichit+chu 2d  
@y-katsuki get well soon Yuuri!!

It's snowing when they return back to Russia.

As Yuuri makes a beeline to the bathroom again, nauseous from the particularly bad turbulence (Victor feels it too, but he doesn't have anything to throw up other than acid), Victor turns to Phichit.

"Can I talk to Yuuri when I drop you two off at your apartment?"

Phichit gazes him with a mixture of coolness and something else, "I see you're moving past the flowers. About time. Sure, I'll make his favorite either way so if he doesn't take it well he has katsudon to eat."

Victor grimaces, "Have a little faith in me."

Phichit takes the passenger seat and knocks out completely, jet lag and exhaustion from travelling finally catching up to him. Victor doesn't mind; he puts on the radio in the background and they get stuck in the rush hour, everyone driving slower as the snow ploughs do their best to clear up the major roads. He's all the more careful with his driving when Yuuri inevitably closes his eyes too, mouth open and relaxed.

He pulls to a smooth stop in front Phichit's and Yuuri's apartment. Phichit only takes seconds to wake up while Yuuri take a full minute of rubbing his eyes before he looks up. Victor wonders if this really is a good time to talk to him when he's so tired and vulnerable, but from the way Phichit is boring holes into the side of his head, he can't back out.

"Yuuri, can we talk?"

"...Now?" 

"Yes."

Phichit hums and stretches in his seat, pressing the seat belt button and turning to his friend in the backseat, "It's fine, I'll get your luggage up and start dinner. Play nice you two."

Victor and Yuuri both watch Phichit enter the building, waving to the security guard at the front desk before the elevator swallows him. Victor clears his throat and Yuuri whips his head to look at him.

"Is it okay if I come sit next to you?" His neck is already straining from turning.

Yuuri nods. Victor steps out of his car and climbs into the back, shutting the door and keeping a good space around Yuuri as they sit in silence, broken by whichever pop star is singing a song about rekindling a lost love. Ironic. At least it's in Russian. 

His body feels like something is thrumming from the inside, as if he can literally start shaking right there and then. He hasn't felt this apprehensive in a couple of years.

"You still kept my ring on your finger," Yuuri absently starts, hands around the cushion Victor threw into the back seat so Otabek's ankle would be more comfortable when it was still sprained, "I didn't know what to make of that. There could be a hundred different answers as to why you kept it. I thought maybe you're used to it, but clearly when Yakov called us into his office and yelled at you to get your act together, that wasn't the case.

"So my next thought was that you could be holding onto it so you can pretend to be engaged, but you're a famous athlete and coach. That won't work; everyone knew what had happened," Yuuri presses his forehead against the glass to peer out to see the snowflakes come down harder, and Victor's heart is aching so much at the sight, "The next answer I played with is that you still have feelings for me. Complicated ones, but still feeling nonetheless. Am I right?"

Victor doesn't answer.

Yuuri turns and gives him a sad twist of his mouth, "It's my fault, I know. I was the one who pushed you away."

"And you came back into my life after that and took your place next to me like you were meant to be there," He found his voice, and it's laced with seven months' worth of fury, "Gone was all the work I did to keep you out of my heart! Everyone took a liking to you! Otabek went back to ballet lessons, Yura was more attentive, Phichit took more gold this year than he ever did in the Grand Prix season with Celestino, Klara and Nikita adore you, and Yakov only has praises for how hard you're working!" 

"And what did you think of me?" He asks quietly.

"Me?" Victor's laughing now, and he doesn't know why, perhaps he's starting to go insane. He rakes a hand through his hair, now brushing his shoulders, "You were wonderful but you fought against my ideas so many times that it reminded me painfully of the days where you wouldn't listen to my advice!" 

The pain of scrolling through his Instagram floated up his mind, of Yuuri and Phichit in Bali. Phichit's _I'm going to take next season off to travel maybe! Good luck everyone!_ message in the group chat. 

"Otabek's and Yura's solo exhibition program were beautiful." He goes on, voice trembling, "It was one of the best things I've seen in my career, you took their personalities and played with it on the ice, and before I knew it, I was repressing the feelings back again."

Yuuri showing up under the guise of a taxi driver while Phichit plays tourist at the rink, the sun barely coming up yet, the taste of spring on his tongue when he took Makkachin out for her walk that morning. The recurring waves that kept sweeping off his feet whenever he turns his head to see Yuuri on the same rink— on the same ice as him. The distance between them that fizzles and made Victor felt something other than emptiness.

"Victor, you're crying."

Yuuri's facing him now, left thigh on the seat as he leans forward and wipes the droplet from his cheek. 

Victor can only stare at him with surprise, Yuuri pulling a travel sized tissue packet out of his windbreaker and tugging a tissue loose. He gently pats his eyes, then his cheeks, and finally, chin.

Yuuri tucks his hair behind his ears.

"Are you going to say you don't have a clear view of me crying again?" It slips from Victor's mouth like he was reliving the memory. Barcelona. Winter. Yuuri with the same glasses, but this Yuuri is older and more battered. He is too, he's sure.

A quiet chuckle bubbles out, "On that night after you took a bag and Makkachin, I laid off calling you because I thought giving you space was the best thing to do. When I was about to call you, Phichit sent me a link stating that you've taken up Yakov's offer. I searched up the flights out of Chubu and saw that the last plane left. I was too late. I started to pack your things and two weeks later the movers came."

Victor sniffles and pulls out the ring from under his scarf, "I couldn't forget you. Giving up the ring felt like burying a part of me." He remembered the foolishness of holding onto the ring, the worried glances Yuri gave him whenever he had to talk to the press.

"...At first I had no intentions of going back into your life. You've settled here. You're still loved by your people, they think you're great, Otabek and Yurio think you're great, and I didn't want to disturb whatever peace you had," Victor sees a matching chain being pulled out by Yuuri under his many layers, and he thinks that Yuri Plisetsky is a smart and lovely boy, "I tried that, I had Otabek's and Phichit's best interest at heart. I really wasn't trying to pick a fight with you but sometimes I got carried away."

He feels how quiet his car is, the heaviness surrounding them like they're in their own personal bubble. Yuuri is looking straight at him for the first time in weeks after meeting him in the airport with Otabek and Phichit, eyes guarded but warm. 

It's this face, Victor thinks, that he misses. Sometimes Yuuri is so easy to read but sometimes he isn't.

His question comes out soft, "Yuuri, do you still like me?"

His heart prays it's not too late like Otabek had promised him.

"Yes."

Yuuri's face has turned into a blurry mess from his stinging eyes, but he takes a breath and asks the next most important question, "Can I be a part of your life again?" 

No regrets, right?

"Can I?"

At this he laughs, a wheeze and relief mixed together as he wipes his eyes and ducks his head down, "Can you? As much as I tried to act otherwise, I never got over you. Of course you can Yuuri, of course."

Yuuri moves into his space and throws his arms around him, the smell of recycled airplane air and winter wrapping around Victor like he's finally home. 

He hears a sniffle, "I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry too."

One of them pulls back first, and Victor brushes the pads of his thumb across Yuuri's cheeks, "Look who's crying now," He fondly teases. Everything feels like they've fallen back to place in him; he feels victorious.

"Kiss me already," Yuuri says, smiling at him like he can see the finish line ahead of him. It makes Victor fall back in love with him a little more.

"'Should I just kiss you or something?'" He asks, far enough from Yuuri to see him roll his eyes before their lips meet. Yuuri smiles against him, pressing his wet cheeks against his own as he leans in with more pressure and Victor feels like he can die happy right then and there.  
  
_Yes_ , he thinks, languidly kissing Yuuri back as the snow storm rages on outside, _the pain is worth it_. 

* * *

Phichit: GUYSSSSS

Phichit: THEY'RE KISSING OH MY GOD

Phichit: I'M GOING TO MAKE RED BEAN RICE

Yuri: about fucking time

Yuri: good for them. we'll bring alcohol tomorrow

Otabek: Are you spying on them?

Phichit: that's not important. otabek, you'll bring a cake right

Otabek: What.

Yuri: he says yeah

Otabek: Excuse me.  
  
Phichit: thanks otabek!

Otabek: I said no such thing.

Phichit: you're still buying cake!

* * *

The ice below his feet feels bitter sweet.

"Getting cold feet?"

Otabek looks up to Yuri as the host skates a lap on the rink, riling everyone up to welcome the gold and bronze medalist in a special gala performance, "Of course not." He leans against the barrier, the entire rink pitch black except for the lights outlining the edge of the ice and strobe lights above their heads. 

Yuri looks at him, one side of his mouth curved up as he fixes Otabek's newsboy cap, "Well I'm feeling sad. This is the last gala skate with you."

"We still have Worlds."

"That's in three months. This is your last Grand Prix."

" _Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome the representatives of Kazakhstan and Russia!_ " 

Otabek glides forward, doing several forward crossovers and feeling brave enough to stick his hands up and wave to the invisible crowd cheering. Over at the mouth of the barrier, he can see Yuuri and Klara next to each other, already teary eyed before the performance even started. Well, this program _is_ their child.

" _Otabek Altin and Yuri Plisetsky will be skating to Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue_." Otabek and Yuri skate past each other and swing onto the barriers at opposite ends, tipping their newsboy caps down to hide their eyes as the crowd coos over their matching costume (a simple white dress shirt, rolled to the elbows with black dress pants and suspenders, plus the newsboy caps). " _This program is choreographed by Klara Babicheva and Yuuri Katsuki._ "

The strobe lights disappear. Everything is black.

The thrill starts off low and he moves, lightly gliding on the ice almost lazily as Yuri's form copies him, bathed in the single spotlight. The clarinet gives its little solo, all the while as Otabek and Yuri skate closer and closer together, almost always touching but not quite. 

The music deviates from the original score where Otabek requested to have it cut by Victor's long trusted music team. The low brasses come and he takes off his hat and tosses it to the crowd, stepping into a sequence with Yuri, punctuating his movements to the music. At the piano solo, he lifts Yuri up and spins him around to the delight of the crowd.

"Why this song, Beka?"

"It's a fun piece, something I would never do for a short or long program."

The whole band enters again and they take off into a side by side quad salchow, triple toe, double toe combination, kneeling to the ice and gliding straight into the next element as the rink edges blurs in Otabek's head and all he sees is Yuri. Yuri with his hair in a ponytail with a braid holding his bangs into place, a grin forming as Otabek laughs in the middle of a spin.

Yuri tilts his head in question, running on his toe picks and launching himself into a split in mid air.

Otabek shakes his head, but that's all he ever wanted— for him to smile.

Sure Yuri had expressed his discontent with skating a gala program together, where the entire skating community would be watching, but Otabek had assured him that it was for the sake of having fun. Both of them have spent their whole lives chasing Victor, and gave up a lot of things others their age would have. 

It was also a parting gift to the audience. Otabek had sold his body and soul to perform, and this was a little piece of him that he wants to show in hopes that he can, for once, enjoy the performance too.

The audience erupts.

Yuri hugs him, his voice almost non-existence in the applause and cheers.

"What?"

"I said," Yuri's voice is right by his ear this time, "Look at Katsudon and Victor."

He turns to the mouth of the rink, Yuri's hand in his as Yuuri and Victor stretch their arms out expectantly, tears swimming in their eyes. Otabek laughs and is grabbed by Victor when he comes close enough, patting his coach in the back.

"Thank you."

Otabek leans back, looking at Victor's bright eyes and perfectly curled hair, "Shouldn't I be thanking you?"

Victor looks at him with a fondness that reminds him of his family and everyone else in his home country, "Thank you for your advice. You're really a lovely person, Otabek." He hugs him again as the arena booms with music. All the skaters are going on the ice for their final lap, "I don't think I say this enough, but I'm very proud, now go take your victory lap."

Otabek is pulled along by Yuri, but he raises his voice, "I couldn't do it without you!"

"Move your feet Beka, we're going to be left behind," Yuri chides. Otabek turns forward but looks back at Victor, who has an arm around Yuuri and wearing a smile that can melt the deepest winter.

He slings an arm around Yuri as the official photographer shuffles them for a group picture. JJ drags him away from Yuri and forces him to lay on the ice with him, yelling something about the gold and silver medalist should be at the center of the picture, shooting a flirtatious wink to the cameras. Otabek amuses him just this once, and gets right back to his feet when it's all over.

"Here's your man back, Little Fairy!"

"I'm going to crush you, asshole!"

JJ turns to Otabek with a peachy grin, "Feisty."

Otabek hums, nudging him in the gut, "Wouldn't want to flip you on the ice like the first time we met, would we?" Phichit is fluttering around everyone, taking pictures every few seconds as the lights come back on.

JJ laughs, "I concede then," He gets a glint in his eyes, "Oh, why don't you two come with me to Korea after the Russian Nationals? I'm visiting Seung-gil again. Leo and Guang Hong are coming too."

"Ew," Yuri scoffs. 

"Sorry, we already have plans," Otabek explains, looking at where the kiss and cry is being dismantled and Victor pointing to his watch and where the press conference room is, "We have to leave now. I'll see you at the banquet, JJ."

"Definitely, see you!"

JJ Leroy @Jjleroy!15 2m  
Going to beat my friend at Worlds! @otabek-altin I'll see everyone in three months! Thank you for your amazing support tonight, Marseille! #GPFBanquet #Marseille

Yuri Plisetsky @y-plisetsky 17m  
-image-  
looking sharp with @otabek-altin who still after three years don't use his twitter #GFPBanquet 

Mila Babicheva @mbabicheva 1h  
-image-  
Rink-mate group photo! @y-plisetsky @otabek-altin @phichit+chu #GPFBanquet #Marseille 

Victor Nikiforov @v-nikiforov 3h  
couldn't be prouder of our students <3

Victor smiles as he adjusts his mirror before pulling out of the airport parking lot. Phichit, Yuri and Otabek have all crashed in the backseat and quickly fell asleep, three world class athletes squished into his car, a comical sight.

"Drive smoothly, okay?" Yuuri says as he sits in the passenger seat after putting everyone's bags in the trunk. Victor starts the engine and backs out, smiling at the precious cargo he's taking home. With the streets so quiet and the nearly empty freeway from the airport into the inner city, he reaches across the console to hold Yuuri's hand.

Yuuri kisses his knuckles in response.

"Stop being gross," Yuri mumbles quietly from the back seat. Otabek shushes him by putting his head on his shoulder. Victor makes eye contact with Yuri in the rear-view mirror and wiggles his eyebrows. He gets a scowl in return.

Yuuri squeezes his hand, and Victor squeezes back, momentarily taking his eyes off the road to smile at him. His own features are lit up from his dashboard lights, but he's never felt so content with staring at Yuuri, who gazes back at him with so much fondness his heart quickens.

"Vitya, keep your eyes on the road."

He hums and turns forward with a smile, "Okay."

In the backseat, Yuri grumbles something sleepily under his breath, and Otabek threads their fingers together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm going to write an otabek-centric piece that i'll post in a few days that sums up the missing gaps in this timeline and if otabek will really retire :> please check it out! it'll be under Aria  
> (it's separate because it's solely focuses on otabek)
> 
> and always, thank you for your support and love!! Even if I can't read some of the comments!! Know!! That I love you!!  
> happy new year

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @yaboyhajime


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